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VIEW OK I.AKK MOIIONK, ULSTER CO., N. Y 



Iegends 

OF THE 

SHAWANGUNK 



(SHON-GUM) 



AND ITS ENVIRONS, 



INCLUDING 



HISTORICAL SKETCHES, BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES, 
AND THRILLING BORDER INCIDENTS AND ADVENTURES 



RELATING TO THOSE PORTIONS OF 

THE COUNTIES OF ORANGE, ULSTER AND SULLIVAN 

LYING IN THE SHAWANGUNK REGION. 

ILLUSTRATED BY 
NUMEROUS ENGRAVINGS AND PEN SKETCHES BY THE AUTHOR. 



By PHILIP H. SMITH. 

II 

AUTHOR OF 

"ACAD/A : A LOST CHAPTER IN AMERICAN: HISTORY" : ''THE GREEX MOUNTA l\ HOYS : or, VER.MOWT 

AND THE NEIY YORK LA .Vd JOBBERS'- : '' HISTORY. OF DUCHESS COVNTY'\- 

" THE Sf.1 TESMEN OF FODC/NA'".- ETC., ETC. 



SMITH \: COMPANY, PAWLING, N. Y. 



Copyright, 1S87. 
By PHILIP H. SMITH. 



Ox 



The Publishers' Printing Company 

157 .VND 159 William Street 

New York 



PREFACE. 



WHEN for the first time an Old World traveler :s permitted to behold an 
American landscape in Autumn, he is transported at the array of 
gorgeous hues of wliich he had formed no conception. Nowhere does Nature 
take on a brighter livery than in the vicinity of the Sha wan gunk ; and there needs 
but the rendering of its history into story by a Scott or a Cooper to immortalize 
the locality. Here, beneath the effulgent rays of the October sun, there burns, 
not one bush, but thousands, as with fire, 3^et are not consumed; and here the 
maple, the sumac, the Virginia creeper, and the expanses of golden-rod and 
purple asters flood the forests and fields with their matchless coloring. 

It requires no gi'eat effort of the fancy to picture the bark canoes of the 
aboriginals still plying upon the bosoms of the many romantic lakes, or swiftly 
coursing along the beautiful streams that, like sinuous bands of silver, wind 
among the verdant meadows. One would be pardoned for being deceived into 
the belief that the smoke from an embowered cottage arose from the embers 
of an Indian wigwam; and the traveler half expects to meet troops of goblin 
warriors, as in the Moorish legend, painted and equipped for battle, silently 
threading the forest over the Indian trails yet clearly traceable through the 
mountain fastnesses 

Does the reader desire details of the more tragic sort ? Then lend your at- 
tention while are told tales of midnight marauders, both white and red, who 
fell upon unsuspecting and unprotected families along the frontier; hsten while 
scenes are depicted of by-gone times, when the silence of night was wont to be 
broken by the screams of affrighted women and children, as the murderous 
tomahawk was brandished over its victims, and when scalps reeking with gore 
were borne away in triumph. Every locality in the Shawangunk region has its 
legend of Indian atrocity, or its story of Revolutionary barbarity: the chain of 



iv Preface. 

stone forts yet standing along the river valleys bear testimony to the general 
insecurity of Ufe in those troublous times. 

Or if the reader delights in tales of adventures with the wild animals of the 
forest, of encounters with the nomadic bear, the ferocious panther, or the 
prowling wolf, and all the exciting experiences of a woodland life, it is hoped 
the hunting stories of the Shawangunk will constitute a source of thrilling in- 
terest. 

It may be that he who has leisure and inclination to scan this volume is of 
a philosophic turn of mind, and would prefer to trace a reflex of the rehgious 
sectarianisms and feudal customs of the Old World in the unsettled society of 
the New. For such a one the history of Eobert Chambers and the Baronetcy 
of Fox Hall, the story of Lewis Du Bois the Walloon, and the narrative of the 
Hardenburgh war, all of which are considered at length in these pages, will 
afford abundant material for reflection. 

Then, too, the more humble but no less heroic virtues of the pioneer settler, 
enduring the hardships and privations of a frontier life to the end that he 
might carve for himself a home in the wilderness — such will form a theme no 
less fruitful and interesting. 

It is the usual thing for history to deal exclusively with great events. The 
conduct of armies, the description of battles, and a record of matters involving 
the interest of the many, are the topics which absorb the attention of the his- 
torian, while the individual experiences in the every-day life of the common 
people are lost sight of altogether. The knowledge that a battle was fought 
is of less value than a knowledge of the causes that led to it and the issues re- 
sulting from it; and how can one understand the causes except he enter into 
sympathy with the masses involved; or how can he sympathize unless he is 
familiar with their individual sufferings, and with their manner of life and 
mode of thinking? We know that the battle oC Monmouth was fought; the 
number and disposition of the contending forces, at what time and by whom 
the charges were made; the repulses and all the details of the action are mat- 
ters of record; but the individual experiences and home Hfe of the sterling 
patriots in the lower ranks that participated in the fight are topics yet unde- 
veloped. In the preparation of this volume the end is kept in view of sup- 
plying this deficiency, and thus, in a measure, supplementing the more preten- 
tious histories. 

The most fascinating chapters of the past are those so remote that weU- 



Preface. V 

established fact and dim tradition become so blended that one can liardly be dis- 
tinguished from the other. It may be asserted that history then loses its value 
as an educator, as it no longer stands a tiiithful transcript of the human character. 
But we should not forget that there can be no more interesting and valuable 
study of the general character and standing of a community than a research 
into its current beliefs and traditions, even though the subjects should partake of 
the nature of myths and fables. The poems of Ossian possess a rare value in 
that they dehneate the habits and experiences of the people of ancient Ireland 
and Scotland centuries beyond the limit of so-called authentic history; the same 
may be said of the works of Homer, however wild and chimerical the stories 
may appear. It has been said that the most conscientious history is but the 
development or maintenance of a theory. No man ever witnessed a battle un- 
biased; it is to this biased source that the historian turns for his facts; these 
facts are liable to undergo a still furiher change in the ciiicible of his pet theory, 
and the public must accept the result. Compare the works of English ^vl•iters 
on the causes and conduct of the war of 1S12 with the versions of the same 
war by American authors, and, but for the names and dates, one would hardly 
recognize the same event. 

But let not the matter-of-fact reader be dismayed. Though the term 
" legend '' has been made use of in the present volume, no naiTative has been 
inserted without the authority of contemporaneous history, or well -authenti- 
cated tradition, 

" Legend " has a less repulsive sound to the superficial reader than " his- 
tory:" while the genuine student will readily discern and accept a means of 
instruction mider whatever guise it is found. For a like reason each topic is 
complete in itself, thus doing away with the necessity of a consecutive reading 
of the book. Inasnmch as the vicinity of the Shawangunk is attracting the 
attention of the public as a desirable place in wliich to spend the summer, it 
has been thought a Avork of this kind, possessing the value of history and the 
charm of romance, would be acceptable. 

\Aliile there is much that is here fomid in print for the first time, all avail- 
able i)ublished sources have been laid under contribution in its comi)ilation. 
Ancient records have been rigidly searched with a view of obtaining such facts 
not only as were new to the public, but such as would be of general interest. 
The aim has been to make a book as attractive to a citizen of a distant locality 
as to a resident of the Shawangunk region, and by a judicious selection of 



vi Preface, 

topics and a careful revision of the text, to expunge whatever may have been of 
a local and common-place nature. 

Several standard local w^orks have been freely quoted, and many of their 
interesting features embodied in this volume. Of this class we make mention 
of Stickney's History of Minisink; the Bevier pamphlet, from wliich is obtained 
much that is valuable of the Revolutionary history of Ulster; Eager's History 
of Orange County; Quinlan's Life of Tom Quick, etc. These books are now 
out of print, and some of them command fabulous prices, such is the demand 
for them. The matter contained in these favorite works nia}^ possess a value 
in the present dress above that of new facts. We make an especial acknow- 
ledgment of the com'tesy of E. F. Quinlan, M. D., and also of Hon. George M. 
Beebe, both of Monticello, N. Y., who kindly consented to our use of the writ- 
ings of James Eldridge Quinlan, the author of Tom Quick and of the History 
of Sullivan county. Mr. Quinlan possessed within himself the rare combina- 
tion of indefatigable research and a pure and forcible diction that claimed the 
attention of the reader; and his efforts are justly regarded as a standard au- 
thority on the subjects of which he has treated. Space would fail were we to 
mention all the favors and facilities afforded us in the works of research. Not 
the least of the results hoped for in the production of this volume is that this 
romantic and interesting region may, though its instrumentaUty, come to be 
better known to the outside world. We shall always treasure the reminis- 
cences of a summer spent in climbing the mountains, sailing over the lakes, and 
tracing out the Indian trails in the forests, in our search for the rare and quaint 
in the annals of the Shawangunk. 



CONTENTS 



The Shawangunk and its Environs, 

The Delawares, 

The First Esopus AVar, 

The Second Esopus Wai-, 

The Esopus Mutiny, 

The War with the Jerseymen 

The Mastodon, 

Catherine DuBois, 

Grey court Inn, 

Minisink Battle. 

Brant and the School-girls, 

Claudius Smith, 

Edward Roblin, 

Lieutenant Burt, 

The DuBois Homestead, 

Massacre at Fantinekill, 

Burning of Warwarsing, 

Koi-tright's Expedition, 

Anderson and Osterhout, 

Polly Tidd, 

Captivity of Mrs. Coleman. 

Phebe Reynolds and the Tories, 

^liss Land's Midnight Journey, 

The Tories after the Revolution, 

Tom Quick, the Indian Slayer, 



PAGE 

1 



15 
25 
30 
32 
3G 
40 

4:0 

40 
57 
r.o 

()5 

(18 

70 

72 

70 

87 

89 

01 

95 

00 

102 

105 

108 



Vlll 



Contents. 



Tom Quick and the Indian Muskwink, 
Tom Quick and the Buck with Seven Skins, 
Tom Quick's Indian Exploits, 
Indian Stratagem to Slay Tom Quick, 
The Savages plan Tom Quick's Capture, 
Early Settlers of the Shawangunk Region, 

A Border Alarm, • 

Sam's Point, or the Big Nose of Aioskawasting, 
" Gross" Hardenburgh. .... 

Little Jessie Mitteer and the Bear-trap, 

A Rival of Israel Putnam, .... 

Panther Hunting at Long Pond, 

Bear Hunt on the Mongaup River, 

Casualty on Blue Mountain, 

Nelson Crocker and the Panthers,. 

The Disappointed Groom, .... 

New Paltz, .... . . 

Needderduytse Taal te Schawankonk, 

The Traps, . 

Shanks Ben, 

Facts and Fancies, 



PAGE 

. 112 

. 114 

. 116 

. 118 

. 120 

. 122 

. 12!) 

. 132 

. 135 

. 140 

. 143 

. 144 

. 146 

. 149 

. 150 

. 152 

. 154 

. 157 

. 15;t 

. 162 

. 165 



LEGENDS OF THE SHAWANGUNK. 



THE SHAWANGUNK AND ITS ENVIRONS. 

THE Shawangunk is a vast aniphitboatre of rocks i)iled into the most fan- 
tastic shapes, ^vith forests covering its crests and slopes, and sporting 
the exuberance of Nature's own flower-garden. Here the arbutus, the azalea, 
and the laurel, successively clothe the sides with vernal beauty. 

The summits overlook the valleys of the Eondout and Walkill, beautiful 
as Paradise, where lie the great grazing and dairy farms of world-wide celeb- 
rity; while eastward can be traced the valley of the Hudson, from Cornwall to 
the mountains about Lake George. 

From these airy heights mountain views may be seen such as will strike 
the beholder with astonishment. On the south the view is bounded by the 
mountains of New Jersey; the highlands of the Hudson lie to the southeast, 
with the white sails of sloops and smoke of steamers in Newburgh bay, plainly 
visible to the naked eye; the Housatonic mountains of Connecticut bound the 
horizon on the east; the whole hne of the Berkshire mountains of Massachusetts, 
and portions of the Green mountains of Vermont, may be seen to the northeast; 
while the Helderbergh mountains on the north, the Catskill and Shandaken 
mountains on the northwest, and the Neversink mountains on the west, com- 
plete a panorama in some respects unrivalled in America, 

If we are moved with emotions of grandeur at the sublime power of the 
Creator as manifested in this great panorama of mountains, what must be our 
feelings, when, under the light of geology, we have presented for our contem- 
plation the convulsions that have brought these mountains into being, and 
the mutations that have marked their history for unnumbered ages ? 

The Shawangaulk was old before God had formed Adam out of the dust of 
the gi"ound, and had breathed into him the l)reath of life; it has witnessed 
changes in the earth's condition of which the mind can form no adequate con- 
ception. 

This globe, geologists say, was once in a fluid state; that in cooling, the 
unequal contraction of the earth's crust caused some parts to nse above sur- 



2 Legends of the Shazvangiink. 

rounding portions, producing mountain ranges. The whole Appalachian 
system, of which the Shawangunk forms a part, owes its existence to this 
agenc3^ 

They tell us, also, that this continent, mountains and all, was once sub- 
merged beneath the ocean. Marine shells are to this day found imbedded in 
the rocky crests of Shawangunk; no theory other than that the waves of old 
Ocean once beat above it can account for their presence there. 

This submerging process antedates the period of the deluge of Noah's time, 
as is indicated by the organic remains, which are those of extinct animals. 
Palaeontologists estimate the number of species of fossil remains to be more 
than 12,(»(^0, yet scarcely one of this number has been identified with any crea- 
ture now living. 

Gradually the land was elevated to its present level, the ocean receded, 
and drainage took place from the surface of the earth. Lay bare to-day the 
rock on which the soil of Sullivan county rests, and it will be found to be fur- 
rowed and grooved as the agency of flowing water carj'ied on for successive 
ages is now known to effect. The general direction of these grooves, together 
with other evidences, show these vast currents to have come from the north 
and northwest. Some of the natural depressions, as, for instance, the Mama- 
kating valley, are filled to a great depth by masses of sediment deposited by 
the water before it receded. 

There are examj^les of denudation in this vicinity; that is to say, the hills 
have been worn away and lowered, and the deep valleys made still deeper, by 
tremendous cataracts and surges, as the water j'ushed violently over high ledges, 
and fell hundreds of feet into the ^^alley below. While contemplating such a 
scene, the imagination must fall far short of the reality. The tidal wave that 
destroyed the port town of Lima, or the surge that overwhelmed the Turkish 
fleet in Candia, destructive as they were, l)ut faintly shadow the terrific scene. 

It requires considerable stretch of the fancy to imagine immense icebergs 
floating over these mountain peaks, as, swayed by the combined action of wind 
and current and tide, they impinged against the sides and tops of the elevations, 
causing those huge rents and fissures that constitute a distinguishing feature 
of the mountain scenery of this locality. 

When the water partially subsided, the ice-floes may have rested on the 
surface, and were congealed to whatever they came in contact with; and, as 
they were subsequently borne up on the flow of the tide, they detached tons of 
rock from its parent bed; then, floating over mountain and valley, the debris 
was deposited when the wasting away of the ice loosened its hold. This seems 
to be the most plausible theory in accounting for the fact that masses of 
Shawangunk grit, w^eighing many tons each, were carried up the western slope 
and over the tops of the Shawangunk mountain, and deposited near Newburgh, 
where we now find them. 

The series of elevations composing the Shawangunk have a decided Alpine 
character; that is to say, there are numerous peaks elevated above genera] 



The Sliawangiink and its Environs. 3 

siiniinits, ^vhile the suiiiniits theinselves are broad, Avild and rocky. In many 
l)laces the declivities are precipitous and i-ugged in the extreme. There are 
occasional depressions, or passes, which are locally known as "cloves." The 
" Pass of the Mountains," at Otisville, on the line of the Erie railroad, is well 
worthy of study. 

Near the i)oint where the Millbrook stream flows down into the Walkill 
valley, is a series of remarkable mural precipices, from 300 to 000 feet in per- 
pendicular height. This adamantine wall of parti-colored rock, constitutes one 
of the disting-uishing features of the momitain; and a raniljle upon its dizzy 
heights, where a walk has been laid out along the very brink, provided one's 
nerve is strong enough, is an achievement long to be reniemV)ered. On the top 
of this ledge are found the finest specimens of the far-famed Shawangunk 
huckleberries. 

This mountain range, so near to the crowded thoroughfare, yet character- 
ized by such wild and picturesque scenery, with deep intervening valleys, and 
abounding in natural lakes, has much to interest the artist and the seeker after 
rest and health. The shades of tint and color, varying with the course of the 
seasons and the daily changes of the weather, are not to be sm'passed in any 
quarter of the world. 

Lying at intervals on the very summit of this mountain, are several con- 
siderable lakes of remarkable depth and clearness. Lake Mohonk is especially 
a romantic body of water, surrounded by masses of huge rocks piled in heaps 
a hundred and fifty feet high. When twilight descends upon the bosom of the 
lake, and the great rocks that bend over it send out their shadows athwart its 
dark expanse, it blends the gloomy, the grand, and the picturesque in a scene 
that is full of sublimity. 

Washington Irving, who once journeyed over this mountain in company 
with Martin Van Buren, tlms describes his impressions: 

" The traveler who sets out in the morning from the beautiful village of 
Bloomingburgh, to pursue his journey westward, soon fuids himself, by an easy 
ascent, on the summit of the Shawangunk. Before him will generally be 
spread an ocean of mist, enveloping and concealing from his view the deep val- 
ley and lovely viUage which lie almost beneath his feet. If he reposes here for 
a short time, until the vapors are attenuated and broken by the rays of the 
morning sun, lie is astonished to see the abyss before him deepening and opening 
on his vision. At length, far down in the newly revealed region, the sharp, 
white spire of the village church is seen, piercing the incumbent cloud; and as 
the day advances, a village, with its ranges of bright colored houses and ani- 
mated streets, is revealed to the adnnring eye. 80 strange is the jirocess of its 
development, and so much are the houses diminished by the depth of the ravine, 
that the traveler can scarcely beheve he is not beholding the phantoms of fairy- 
land, or still ranging in those wonderful regions which are unlocked to the 
mind's eye by the wand of the god of dreams. But as lie descends the western 
decUvity of the momitain, the din of real life rises to greet his ear, and lie soon 



4 Legends of the Shaivangunk. 

penetrates into the niidst of the ancient settlement, of which we have before 
spoken. ' ' 

Men are now Hving in the environs of the Shawangunk whose experience 
there reads Uke a western romance. They will tell yon of camping in the woods 
at night, sleeping on a bed of hemlock boughs with only the sky for a covering, 
on the very spot where populous villages are now located; where, in place of 
the sound of church bells, and the scream of the locomotive, their ears were 
greeted with only the shrill bark of the fox, the howl of the wolf, and the sough- 
ing of the wind in the tree-tops. 

The mythology of the ancients clothed inanimate nature with a new and 
poetic interest. Every meadow had its fairy, every forest its wood-nymph, and 
every cascade its water-sprite; while flowery nook and woodland glade were peo- 
pled with a merry crew that danced in the light of the harvest-moon, or sported 
at will in the dew-bespangled grass. These creations of the fancy, while adding 
a new interest to rural localities, helped to lift the mind out of the prosaic ruts 
which a dull routine of toil induces, and gave the imagination something more 
agreeable to dwell upon than the humdrum cares and responsibilities of life. 

In like manner it may be said that history and ti'adition have lent an added 
charm to the natural beauties of the Shawangunk region. Every lonely road 
has its tale of tragedy, and every mountain pass its story of encounter with 
wild beast or savage Indian* every lake has its legend, and every stream its 
store of border incident. 

For untold ages before the advent of the white man the catamount here 
made liis lair, the bear roamed in search of mast, and the deer fed on the lily 
pads in the ujDland lake. The wild Indian hunted through its fastnesses, fished 
from its streams, and, with stealthy and cat-like tread, followed the trail into 
his enemy's country. 

The rocky sides of old Shawangunk have more than once been reddened with 
the lurid glare of burning homes; its precipices have echoed back the groans 
of the dying frontiersmaii, laid low by a shot from an ambushed enemy; the 
night winds have borne along its rugged outline the shrieks of women and the 
wails of children, mingled with the w^ar- whoop of the savages, as the work of 
carnage went on. 

Here, too, as we have before intimated, may be found a wealth of rare 
attractions to the student of geology — in fact, such as will interest aU who desii'e 
to read the great lessons of creation traced by a Divine hand upon the rocky 
strata of the mountains, or in the fossils imbedded in the peat and marl of the 
lowlands. Cabinets of rare value may be collected along these hiUs and at the 
excavations of the mines, during a very brief interval of leisure. 

The rocks composing the Shawangunk are mainly the shells and sandstones 
of the Chemung group. " Shawangunk grit " crops out on the west side of the 
mountain, and has been quite extensively used as millstones, locally knowai as 
" Esopus millstones." The entire mountain has been pretty thoroughly ex- 
amined from presumed indications of veins of coal. 



The Shawa7igu)ik and its Environs. e 

At the foot of the westeni slopt; tlu' IJasliaskill and Xevorsink river flow 
southwardly; on the east side the Sliawaiigiink kill runs in a northerly direction, 
all the streams lying close under the base of the mountain. This same pecu- 
liarity is observed in the WalkiU and Hudson rivers, their general course lying 
])aral]('l to each other, yet flowing in opposite directions. 




•"S^-i- 






^ w-^ 



A NATIVE SHAWANO INKKIt 



The whole range is intersected by metalHferous veins. Besides, the vicinity 
is so full of traditions of Indians obtaining botli lead and silver in abundance, 
and at so many points in the mountain, that it is looked ujion as a bed of ores 
of undisputed riches. The openings to the mines were carefully concealed, as 
IS asserted, by the Indians ajid early settlers, and with tlieir death })erished all 



6 Legends of the SJiaivangwik. 

knowledge of the location of the minerals. Stickney relates an acconnt given 
of two men who worked a silver mine somewhere in the mountain, previous to 
the Eevolutionaiy war. This mine was shown them by some Indians; they 
carried on operations with the utmost secrecy, working only at night, and mak- 
ing long and mysterious journeys to dispose of their ore. When the Avar broke 
out they joined the army, eacli pledging the other not to reveal the secret until 
the war was ended. One cold, dark night they drew a large flat stone over the 
mouth of the mine, strewed leaves over the place, and at the distance of thirty 
paces east marked three trees which stood close together. 

One of the men never returned from the war; the other was absent nine 
years. His family meanwhile had fled for safety to a distant village, and his 
first duty was to look after their welfare, and provide for them another home 
in the forest in place of the one destroyed. When he had leisure to look after 
the mine he found that predatory bands of Indians had burned the marked trees, 
and obliterated the natural landmarks, and he was unable to locate the mouth 
of the mine. No one has to this day removed that stone from the entrance 
to this cavern of mineral treasure. 

Another old gentleman related that his father once saw the mine. At his 
earnest and repeated solicitations, a friendly Indian chief consented to take him 
to it, but he must allow himself to be blindfolded. He was accordingly led for 
a distance into the wilderness up hill and down dale, and finally went down into 
the heart of the mountain, as he judged by the dripping of the water on the 
rocky sides of the cavern. At length the bandage was taken from his eyes, and 
he stood before a solid vein of silver. Though he many times searched all 
through the mountain, he could never afterwards find the p^ace. Old residents 
say "every seven years a bright light, like a candle, rises at twelve o'clock at 
night above the mine, and disappears in the clouds; but no one that has ever 
seen it has been able in daylight to find from whence it arose." 

It is related that the savage Unapois, beholding a gold ring on the hand 
of a white woman, demanded why she carried such a trifle. He was answered 
by the husband of the lady, ' ' If you will procure me such trifles I will rewnrd 
you with things suitable for you." " I know," said the Indian, "a mountain 
filled with such metal." "Behold," continued the other, "what I will give 
you f oi' a specimen, ' ' exhibiting a fathom of red and a fathom of blue frieze, 
some white lead, looking-glasses, bodkins and needles, and tendering the savage 
an escort of two soldiers. The Indian declined the escort, but accepted the 
presents, and promised to give a specimen; if it gave satisfaction he might be 
sent back with some of the white people. 

After some days the Indian returned with a lump of ore as large as his fist, 
which was found to be of good quality, and a considerable amount of gold was 
extracted from it, and made into rings and bracelets. The Indian was promised 
further presents if he would disclose the situation of this mountain. Unapois 
consented, but demanded a delay of a few days, when he could spare more time. 
This Avas acceded to, and after having received more presents he returned to his 



TJie Dclawares. j 

nation. He indiscreetly boasted of his presents, and declared the reason of their 
presentation, which led to his assassination by the sachem and others of his 
tribe, lest he should betray the situation of the gold mine. There was a predic- 
tion current among the Indians to the effect that after their people had passed 
through a period of punishment for some great offence they had committed, 
the Great Sj^irit would once more smile upon them and restore them to the land 
of their fathers, and they wished to reserve those mines against their I'eturn. 



THE DELAWARES. 



THE Indian of the Western continent belongs to the "bow and arrow" 
family of men. To him the chase meant everything. When tlie advent 
of Europeans drove the deer from the forests and the beaver from the natural 
meadows, and the pm^suit of hunting was no longer profitable, the red man 
pined and wasted away as though his life was robbed of everything that made 
existence desirable. The Indian could form no higher ideal of earthly happi- 
ness; and liis most blissful conception of Paradise was that of a hunting-ground 
abounding in game, and where the streams and lakes swarmed with fish. 

A characteristic of the American Indian is a dislike of restraint. A degree 
of personal independence incompatible witli a state of society in which each 
individual's actions are modified from consideration for his neighbor, has ever 
caused the Indian to chafe under the restrictions imposed by civilization. The 
greatest chief among them had no delegated authority. His power to rule was 
fomided on public opinion, and when that was against him, he was no more 
than a common savage; but when largely in his favor, his power was despotic. 
To be foremost in danger, and bravest in battle, were requisites necessary to 
sustain himself in authority. 

Another propensity of the Indian is a passion for war. He followed the 
war-path because it gratified the most deei)ly seated principle of action in the 
savage breast, a thirst for revenge; and also because that was the only means 
by which he might hope to satisfy his ambition, and rise to a position of au- 
thority and influence in his tribe. With the aboriginal the forgiveness of 
an injury w^as reckoned a weakness, wiiile revenge was considered among the 
nobler virtues. Tales of bloody, retributive vengeance were told about their 
council fires, by way of inciting the young warriors to deeds of similar daring. 

The Indian believed in a Great Spirit, everywhere present. He believed 
also in the existence of subordinate spirits, both good and bad. He belonged 
to a singularly superstitious race, and put the most im[)licit faith in dreams and 
omens. When disease came among them, Avhen the chase was unsuccessful, 
when their crops failed or they Avere defeat;'d in war, they thought the Great 
Spirit was displeased with them; at such times they would perform rehgious 



8 Legends of the Shawangunk. 

cei'einonies with great earnestness and solemnity, by vv^ay of propitiation of his 
wrath. 

Among them the dance was universal; but it was not for purposes of pas- 
time, as among civilized nations. It had a deeper signification. It was a solemn 
ceremony, and was an outward expression of their sentiments of religion and 
war. 

It is the logic of events that the red man yields to the conquering foot of 
the Saxon. The weakei- race has withered from the presence of the stronger. 
" By the majestic rivers and in the depths of the solitary woods, the feeble son 
of the ' bow and arrow ' will be seen no more; the cypress and hemlock sing 
his requiem." 

The Delawares related a legend to the effect that jnany centuries ago their 
ancestors dwelt far in the western wilds. Emigrating eastvvardly, after many 
years, they arrived on the Nammsi Sipu (Mississippi), where they encountered 
the Meugwe (Iroquois), who had also come from a distant country. The spies 
of the Delawares reported that the country on the east of the river was inhabited 
by a powerful nation, dwelling in large towns erected upon the principal rivers. 

This people were said to be tall and robust, warlike, and of gigantic mould. 
They bore the name of Alligewi (Alleghany); their towns were defended by 
regular fortifications, many vestiges of which are yet apparent. The Delawares, 
requesting to establish themselves on their territory, were refused; but obtained 
leave to pass the river that they might seek a habitation farther to the eastward. 
The Alligewi, alarmed at their numbers, violated their word and destroyed 
many of the Delawares who had reached the eastern shore, and threatened a 
like fate to the remainder, should they attempt the passage. Roused at this act 
of treachery, the Delawares eagerly accepted a proposition from the Mengwe, 
who had hitherto been spectators of the occurrence, to unite with them for the 
conquest of the country. 

A war of extermination was then commenced, which eventuated in the 
expulsion of the Alligewi, who fled from their ancient seats never to return. 
The devastated country was apportioned among the conquerors, the Meiigwe 
choosing the neighborhood of the lakes, and the Delawares appropriating the 
territory further to the south. 

For many years the conquerors lived together in much harmony. Some 
Delaware hunters, having penetrated far into the forest, discovered the great 
rivers, the Susquehanna and Delaware; and crossing the Skeyickhy (New Jer- 
sey) country, came at last to the Mahicannittuck (Hudson river) Upon their 
return to their nation, they described the country they had visited as abounding 
in game, fish, fowl and fruits, but destitute of inhabitants. Summoning 
together their chiefs and principal men, after solemn and protracted delibera- 
tion it was concluded that this was the home destined for them by the Great 
Spirit; and thither the tribe went and took up their abode, making the Delaware 
river, to which they gave the name of Lenapewihittuck, the centre of their 
possessions. 



The Delazvarcs. 9 

The Meiigwe, tluis left to themselves, hovered for a time on the Itorders of 
the great lakes with their canoes, in readiness to fly should the AUigewi return. 
Having grown holder, and their numbers increasing, they stretched themselves 
along the St. Lawrence, and became near neighbors to the Dela wares on the 
north. 

In process of time the Mengwe and the Delawares became enemies. The 
latter said the Mengwe were treacherous and cruel, and jmrsued an insidious 
and destructive i)olicy towards their more generous neighbors. Not dai-ing to 
engage in open warfare with the more powerful l)ela\v(U'es, tlie Mengwe i< -sorted 
to artifice to involve them in a war with distant tribes. Each nation had a 
]>articular mark upon its Avar-clubs, which, placed beside a murdered victim, 
denoted the aggressor. The Mengwe killed a Cherokee warrior, and left with 
the dead body a war-club with the mark of the Delawares. The Cheiokees, in 
revenge, fell ui)on the latter, and commenced what proved to be a long and 
bloody Av^ar. 

The treachery of the ^lengwe was at length discovered, and the Delawares 
turned upon their perfidious neighbors with the avowed pui'pose of extei-mina- 
tion. They were the more induced to take this step, as the camiibal practices 
of the Mengwe'"- had reductnl that nation, in the estimation of the Delawares, 
below the rank of human beings. 

Hitherto the tribes of the Mengwe had acted each under its particular chief. 
Being so sorely pressed by the Delawares, they resolved to form a confedei'a- 
tion, the better to control their forces in war, and regulate their affairs in peace. 
Thanwewago, a ]\Iohawk chief, was the projector of this alUance. Under his 
auspices, five nations, the Mohawks, Oneidas, Onondagas, Cayugas and Sene- 
cas, formed a species of republic, governed by the united councils of their aged 
sachems and chiefs. To these a sixth was afterwards added, the Tuscaroras 
of North Carolina. 

The effect of tliis centralization of power early manifested itself. The 
Iroquois confederacy became a terror to their enemies, and extended their con- 
quests over a large i)art of the territory lying between the Atlantic and the ]\Iis- 
sissippi. The Delawares were frequently at war with the Dutch, and, if ti-a- 
dition is to be believed, the Dutch and Iroquois conspired for their destiiiction. 
However that may be, the confederated tribes, having been taught the use of 
fire-arms by the whites, soon asserted a su])remacy over the less fortunate Dela- 
ware Indians, and the latter were I'educed to the condition of a conquered peoi)le. 

According to a tradition among the Delawares, their forefathers were once 
fishing at a })lace where tlie Mahicannittuck widens into the sea, when they 
beheld a white object floating upon the water. Word was sent to the village, 
and the people came to view the wonder. Various conjectures were made as 
to what it could be. Some thought it was an immense animal floating upon 

* The Mengwe, or Iroquois, sometimes ate llie bodies of tlieir juisonei-s. It is said, too, of the 
Algonquins, that tliey drank their enemies' blood. 



lo Legends of the Shawangnnk. 

the water; others said it was a huge fish; Others still believed it to be a large 
wigwam. 

As the apparition moved steadily toward the land, the natives imagined 
they could discover signs of life in it. Their chiefs and wise men were sum- 
moned together; after mature deliberation they came to the conclusion that it 
was a very large wigwam, in which the Great Spirit resided, and that he was 
coming to visit them. This decision created a profound sensation among those 
simple children of the forest. The Manitou, from whom they received the 
choicest gifts, and who so seldom made himself visible to his creatures, was 
about to land upon their shores, and be seen by them and converse with them. 

The sacrifice was prepared, the best food provided, and a dance ordered 
to honor him, and appease his anger if his mood were wrathful. Fresh runners 
arrived who declared their strange visitant to be an immense floating wigwam, 
and that it was crowded with living creatures. Later still, other messengers 
reported the living things were human beings, with pale faces and strange 
garments, and one of their number was clad in magnificent apparel. The lat- 
ter they decided was the Great Manitou himself. 

In due time their wonderful visitors landed. Some of the natives were 
overcome with fear, and were about to run away and hide themselves in the 
woods; but the wise men and warriors of the tribe tried to prevent such an ex- 
hibition of cowardice, and counselled that they unite in giving a fitting recep- 
tion to their marvellous guests. 

A large circle of their principal inen was formed, towards which the man 
in gold lace approached, accompanied by two others of the pale faces. Saluta- 
tions were given on both sides. The Indians could not conceal their wonder at 
the brilliant ornaments and white skin of the supposed Manitou; they were 
sorely puzzled when they found he did not understand the words of his chil- 
dren, and that he spoke in a language unintelligible to tliem. 

While they were regarding him with a respectful gravity, a servant brought 
a large hack-hack (gourd), from which was poured a liquid which the Great 
Being drank, and then offered to one of the chiefs. The savage looked at it, 
then smelled it, and was not pleased with its pungent odor. It was then passed 
to the next chief, who followed the example of the first, and gave the vessel to 
the one next to him. In that manner it was transferred to each one in the 
circle, and it was about to be returned to the supposed Manitou, when a great 
and brave warrior conceived the act would be disrespectful to the Deity, and 
forthwith harangued the warriors on the impropriety of their conduct. He 
explained that while it would be meritorious to follow the example of the Mani- 
tou, to return what he had given them might displease him, and lead him to 
punish them. The speaker would, therefore, drink the contents of the cup 
himself, and though he perished, the sacrifice would save his nation from de- 
struction. Having proclaimed his laudable intention, he bade his followers 
farewell, and drank the contents of the cup. Soon he began to exhibit signs 
of intoxication. While the natives were regarding him witli interest, sui)posing 



TIlc Dclawarcs. i r 

him to be under the effects of tiie poison, he fell to the ground. His companions 
imagined he was dead, hut he was only dead diTink. 

Presently the would-he martyr exhibited signs of life; and when he had 
sufficiently recovered from his fit of intoxication to speak, he told the assem- 
bled chiefs that the liquor had given him the most pleasing sensations that he 
had ever experienced. All of them had an anxiety to feel these sensations. 
More of the intoxicating beverage was solicited; the cup this time was not passed 
without being tasted; and a general debauch followed. The supi)osed ]\Ianitou 
was Henry Hudson; and this was the tii'st visit of the white man to the country 
of the Dela wares. 

The territory embraced between the Hudson and the head-waters of the 
Delaware, now included in the counties of Orange, Ulster and Sullivan, is a 
region of peculiar interest. Less than three centuries ago these valleys and 
hills swarmed with villages of the Leni-Lenape; and now not one representative 
of the aboriginal occupants of the soil remains among the scenes sacred to the 
memory of his fathers. The story of the causes that led to their extinction, 
and to the peopling of their Muck-cos-qnit-iu is, or " corn-planting grounds," by 
pale-faced usurj^ers, is a tale of thrilling interest, and is well worthy a niche in 
history. 

The council seat of the Leni-Lenape or Delawares was at Minisink, near 
the junction of the Xeversink and Delaware rivers. Here the chiefs and prin- 
cipal men of the nation met to decide the questions relating to the welfare of 
their people; here they smoked the pii)e of peace, or determined the question 
of carrying war into the territory of their enemies. 

Near Cochecton was the Indian village where the clans met, in accordance 
with their ancient cu.stoms, to celebrate their gi*een-corn dances, their dog- 
festivals, and indulge in their favorite pastime of La Crosse. On the hanks of 
the Hudson was the famous Danskamer, or " Devil's Dance Chamber," where 
burned the religious fires of the natives, that were never suffered to go out, 
lest the wrath of the Great Spirit should be aroused from their negligence. 

When the white strangers came from over the sea, these natives shared 
with them their hunting-grounds, and generously set apart, for their use, fields 
for planting. Esopus, and other early settlements of Ulster, lay along the old 
Indian ti'ail connecting the Hudson \\\\\\ the head waters of the Delaware, 
while the ancient settlement of Peenpack grew and flourisht'd in the heart of the 
Delaware country. Thus the savages, thrown into frequent connnunion with 
the whites, were initiated into some of the customs of their more civilized 
neighbors; while the latter not infrequently adopted some of the habits of their 
dusky friends. 

For years the hardy pioneers and their red brothers would live anii(al)ly 
together, fishing from the same streams, hunting through the same forests, 
and tilling contiguous fields of corn. Occasional broils would break out be- 
tween the two races, in which the Indians were not always the aggressors. 
When savage ferocity was once roused, the work would be decisive and sau- 



12 Lege7ids of the Shaivangunk. 

guinaiy. Without a monieiit's warning, in the silent, unguarded hours of 
slumber, the settler's home would be invaded with terrific war-whoop and mur- 
derous tomahawk, and the whole family massacred or carried away into cap- 
tivit5^ 

It is to be observed that the difficulties between the Delaware Indians and 
their white neighbors, which caused so much bloodshed on both sides, oiigi- 
nated mainly from misunderstandings in regard to lands. The natives claimed, 
and not without reason, that they were cheated in their transactions with the 
Dutch; that the latter assumed possession of more land than was sold to them; 
and that boundaries and lines were altered, and always in favor of the whites. 
It cannot be denied that the Indians were not always paid the full stipulated 
purchase price, and were overreached by their more wily pale faces in various 
reprehensible ways. 

Lossing, in his " Field Book of the Revolution," gives an instance in point. 
The natives had conveyed a territory to the "Proprietors of Pennsylvania,*' 
the boundaries of which were to extend a certain distance on the Delaware or 
"Great Fishkill" river, and as far back, in a northwest direction, as a man 
could travel in a day and a half. The Indians intended the depth of the tract 
should be about fifty miles, the distance a man would ordinarily walk in the 
specified time. But the purchasers employed the best jDedestrians in the colo 
nies, who did not stop by the way even to eat while Tunning the line; the expi- 
ration of the day and a half found them eighty -five miles in the interior ! The 
Indians boldly charged then] with deception and dishonesty. 

The "Proprietors" claimed that they had become the owners of the 
lands within the Forks of the Delaware river, by a regular form of conveyance, 
and that the Indians had been fully paid for them. The Delawares, on the 
other hand, denied the validity of the sale, and asserted that they had never 
received a stipulated consideration. The case was, in 1742, laid before the Six 
Nations for arbitration, who, after hearing both sides, decided that the dis- 
puted territory could not be sold by the Delawares, as they were a conquered 
people, who had lost their right in the soil; that if the lands did not belong to 
the white people, it was the property of the Six Nations. With two such rivals 
for claimants, as the scheming whites and the dreaded Iroquois, the Delawares 
were fain obliged to forego their claim to the disputed territory. Some years 
ago a quantity of old spurious coin was dug up near Otisville, on the line of the 
Erie railroad. It was so clumsily executed as to preclude the supposition 
that it was the work of a gang of counterfeiters. The more reasonable theory 
is that it was intended to be used to cheat the Indians as they were not the best 
judges of money. 

Such treatment ruffled the tempers of the Delawai-es, and predisposed them 
to make other complaints. They declared that the whites had spoiled their 
hunting-grounds; that they had destroyed the deer with iron traps; and that 
the traders of Minisink always made the Indians drunk when they took their 
peltries there, and cheated them while they were in that condition. The period 



The Dclawares. 13 

of the Frencli and Indian \var Avas now ai)i)roacliino-; and liad the settlers of 
the Shawangnnk region adopted a different policy in tlieii- ticatnient of the 
Delawares, and so predisposed their dusky neighbors in their own behalf, many 
of the atrocities which thrilled and startled tlie people of that frontier would 
have been averted. While the Dutch and English were building up a wall of 
enmity between themselves and the Indians by adopting a course of treachery 
and artifice, the more wily French emissaries were making good use of that 
very circumstance to incite them against the English occni)ants of the territory, 
and so win them over to the interests of the French monarch. The results 
of the over-reaching poUcy of the Dutch and English recoiled with terrible 
effect on their own heads. 

The defeat of Braddock, in July, 1755, on the banks of the Monongahela, 
was another of the causes that led the Indians of the whole territory of the 
Delaware to take sides with the French. That defeat, so discreditable to the 
military prestige of Great Britain, entirely destroyed the influence of the Eng- 
Ush with those tribes. 

Once the nnnderous tomahawk was unljuried, the whole frontier, from 
Virginia to the banks of the Hudson, at once felt the dire effects of savage 
ferocity. The following description does not overstate the reality: " The bar- 
barous and bloody scene which is now open, is the most lamentable that has 
ever appeared. There may be seen horror and desolation; populous settlements 
deserted, villages laid in ashes, men, women and cliildren cruelly mangled and 
murdered, some found in the woods, veiy nauseous, for want of interment, 
and some hacked, and covered all over with wounds." 

During the winter ensuing, the enemy continued to hang on the frontiers. 
A chain of forts and block-houses was erected along the base of the Kittanning 
mountains, from the Neversink river to the Maryland line, and garrisoned by 
fifteen hundred volunteers and mihtiamen under Washington. It may not be 
generally known that Benjamin Franklin once engaged in a military campaign. 
He received the appointment of Colonel, and in the service of defending this 
chain of forts, he began and completed his miUtary career, being convinced that 
war was not his chosen calling. 

By September of 1750 it was estimated that one thousand men, women 
and children had been ^ain by the Indians, or carried into captivity. Property 
to an immense amount hjid been destroyed, and the peaceful pursuits o^ civil- 
ized hfe were suspended along the whole fi'ontier. Although Colonel John 
Armstrong subsequently administered a severe chastisement upon the savages 
in their den at Kittanning, killing their chiefs, slaughtering their families, and 
reducing their towns and crops to ashes, yet scalping parties continued to 
penetrate into the Mamakating and Eondout Kill valleys, some of them ventur- 
ing into settlements east of the Shawangnnk mountains. Under these circum- 
stances, for the settlers to remain on their farms was to court death m a hideous 
form. The majority of the women and children were removed to Rochester, 
Wawarsing, New Paltz, and other localities fen- protection. 



14 Legends of the Sliawangiink. 

The reduction of Canada by the English, and tlie consequent overthrow of 
the French power and domination on the western continent, did not afford our 
frontiers entire immunity from savage atrocity and outrage, as the settlers had 
hoped. iVn era of better fellowship seemed to be dawning between the two 
races, which for awhile seemed to promise nnich ; but when the War for Ameri- 
can Independence broke out, the natives again entered upon the vv^ar-path, urged 
thereto by British influence, and, as has been asserted, and by facts substan- 
tiated, by proffers of British gold. 

The Delawares are no more seen along the rivers and valleys of the Shaw- 
angunk region. If the blood of the Leni-Lenape of the ]Neversink and Walkill 
valleys yet flows in the veins of the hving, it is to be looked for in the scattered 
remnants of the Indian clans of the far distant west. 

The Indian, like his prototype the Mastodon, who aforetime roamed through 
these fertile vaUeys, bids fair, as a race, to become extinct. Years ago, a poor, 
friendless Delaware came into the vicinity, the last of the tribe that was ever 
seen here. He was last noticed at Bridgeville, Sullivan County, where he ^vas 
made the sport of a lot of vicious boys. A Mr. Eice, then an invalid, whom all 
supposed in an advanced stage of consumption, rescued him from his tormentors, 
and gave him a hat and some money. The Indian received them gratefully, 
and after gazing thoughtfully for some time on his benefactor, he left the 
neighborhood, never more to return. Some months elapsed, and the incident 
had nearly passed out of mind, when Mr. Eice received a letter from the Indian, 
in which the latter gave a minute description of his complaint, with directions 
for its cure. The treatment was undertaken, and the remedy proved so effica- 
cious that Mr. Eice's health was completely restored. The grateful savage had 
travelled forty miles from his home in the wilderness to deposit his letter in the 
post-office. 

Competent judges have pronounced the Delaware language the most per- 
fect of any Indian tongue, it being distinguished, they say, by "great strength, 
beauty, and flexibility. " The tribe have left behind them, as mementoes of their 
former dominion over the soil, names that they gave to mountains, streams and 
localities. No people, ancient or modern, bestowed more beautiful names on 
water-courses and valleys than did the Delawares. However long one may 
have been accustomed to perfect euphony and exact rythm, these appellations 
delight the ear as does the rich, sweet cadence of the hermit thrush that sings 
upon their banks — such words, for instance, as Wyoming, Mamekoting, Moya- 
mensing and Osinsing. Their names of mountains, on the other liand, are harsh 
and rugged, as Shawangunk, Mohunk, Wachung, Scunnemunk, and others. 



The Fii'st Esopus War. jc 



THE FIRST ESOPUS WAR. 

IT is a peculiar feature of American history that many of the earlier settle- 
ments owe their establishment to the religious persecutions of the old coun- 
try. Sometimes the Catholics drove the Protestants from their homes to find 
refuge in strange climes, as the Fi-ench did the Huguenots at tlie Revocation of 
the Edict of Nantes; and again we behold a Protestant persecuting diss(^nters 
and Catholics alike, as the Enghsh did the Puritans of New England and the 
Romanists of Maryland. Another relic of old Europe, the outcome of the 
ancient feudal system, was the custom of granting large tracts to individuals 
called Patroons, thus establishing a system of tenantry, with the Lord of the 
Manor as the chief head. Both these causes, as we shall see, contributed to 
the settlement of Ulster county. 

Holland at that time was denominated a " cage of unclean birds,'' because, 
it being a government founded on religious tolerance, all religions flocked there. 
Some English and French Walloons, who had found temporary refuge among 
the Hollanders, afterward emigrated to America, and settled at Rensselaerwyck. 
The management of the affairs of the Patroon of that section had been given 
to Brandt Van Schlectenhorst, " a person of stubborn and headstrong temper." 
This man was very earnest in defending what he considered the rights of his 
lord against the Governor of New Netherland and the West India Comi)any. 
Stuyvesant claimed a jurisdiction about Fort Orange, and insisted that tlie 
Patroon was subordinate. Van Schlectenhorst denied botli, and went so far as 
to dispute StuyA'esant's right to proclaim a fast in his jurisdiction. To insure 
allegiance, the Patroon pledged his tenants not to appeal from his courts to the 
Governor and Council; and finally, orders were issued for tenants to take tlie 
oath of allegiance to the Lord of the Manor. This bold jnoceeding Governor 
Stuyvesant was moved to call a crime. Some of the settlers sided with the 
Governor, and others with the doughty Van Schlectenhorst; the dispute at 
last ran so high that the two factions came to blows. 

Among these tenants was one Thomas Chambers, an Enghshman by birth, 
"tall, lean, with red hair, and a carpenter by trade." He was one of the 
Walloons that fied from his home to escape religious persecution, only to find 
himself involved in the troubles about the proprietary rights of the new coun- 
try, a quan-el in which he had no interest; subject to the whim of his landlord 
or his commissary, treated as a slave, and victimized by covetous officers. He 
and his comi)anions, therefore, cast about them for a new settlement, "where 
they could work or ])lay, as seemed best to thcin. "' Chambers emigi-ated to the 
vicinity of Troy; but finding he was still on territoiy claimed by his old land 
lord, he removed to Esopus, having heai-d the land there was good, and that 
the savages had expressed a desire that the Christians would come among them. 



1 6 Legends of the Shawangunk. 

Tradition says they landed at the mouth of Esopus Creek, and journeyed up 
until they reached the flats of Kingston. Here Chambers received a "free 
gift ' ' of territory from the natives. 

In 1055 a general war broke out between the Indian tribes on both sides of 
the Hudson, and the whites of Amsterdam and vicinity. When the news of 
this outbreak reached Esopus the inhabitants all fled, leaving their stock, dwell- 
ings and crops to the mercy of the savages. This action was the more necessary, 
as the few inliabitants were living scattered on their farms, without even a 
block-house for protection. During their absence" their empty houses and un- 
protected grain was appropriated by the Indians. Albany records say the 
farmers returned to their homes as soon as peace w^as restored. 

It had been the purpose of the Directors of the West India Company to 
construct a fort at Esopus, and orders had been issued to that effect. The 
orders were not obeyed, hence the unprotected state of the settlement. The 
savages had their wigwams all around the farms of the w^hite ])eople, and 
their maize-fields and bean-patches were near to each other. The hogs, cows 
and horses of the settlers roamed at will on the untilled flats, frequently de- 
stroying the crops of the Indian women. This made the Indians mad, and 
they complained of the depredations of the stock to the owners, but the animals 
still roamed. 

Now and then a pig was found dead with an arrow or bullet in it. Now 
it was the Christian's turn to get mad. Still it might have been possible for 
the whites and Indians to have Uved together in comparative amity, but for an 
additional source of trouble. 

Jacob Jansen Stohl, agent for the Governor at Esopus, wi'ote to Stuyvesant 
to the following purport : ' ' The people of Fort Orange ( Albany) sell liquor to 
the Indians so that not only I, but all the people of the Great Esopus, daily see 
them drunk, from which nothing good, but the ruin of the land, must be the 
consequence." 

In these transactions the whites were sometimes more to blame than the 
savages, and yet they wrote in this wise: " Christ did not forsake us; He col- 
lected us in a fold. Let us therefore not forsake one another, but let us soften 
our mutual sufferings. ' ' 

In a letter from Thomas Chambers to Governor Stuyvesant, dated May, 
1058, we find additional evidence of the baneful effects of the strong drink sold 
to the savages. He writes in substance: " I saw that the savages had an anker 
(ten-gallon keg) of brandj^ lyii^g under a tree. I tasted myself and found it was 
pure brandy. About dusk they fired at and killed Harmen -Jacobsen, who was 
standing in a yacht in the river; and during the night they set fire to the house 
of Jacob Adrijansa, and the people were compelled to flee for their fives. Once 
before we were driven away and expelled from our property; as long as we 
are under the jurisdiction of tlie West India Company we ask your assistance, 
as Esopus could feed the whole of New Netherlaitd. I have informed myself 
among the Indians who killed Harmen, and they have promised to deliver the 



The First lisopus War. 1 7 

savage in bonds. Please do not begin the war too suddenly, and not until we 
liave constructed a strongliold for defense.'' 

The following month Chambers again wrote: — " We have done our best to 
apprehend the nmrderer, but have been mockingly refused by the barbarians. 
In answer to our inquiry who sold them the brandy, the savages refer to no one 
in particular, but to many, now Peter, then Paul. It is evident that it is not 
for the sake of selling their stock of beavers alone that they keep near Fort 
Orange (Albany), where, as the make of the brandy keg proves, the coopers 
have hardly sufficient time to supply the demand by these people. The sav- 
ages set fire to the cow-shed, the pig-sty, and then the dwelling-liouse of Jacob 
Adrijaensen, and not being satisfied, compelled us here to plow for them. Upon 
our refusal they take fire brands and hold them under the roofs of our houses, 
to set fire to them. The common savages do not pay any attention to their 
chiefs, as the latter seem to have lost their authority. We are ol)liged to remain 
in our houses, as the savages would inunediately attack us when we stir about, 
and set everything on fire; therefore we request yom- favor for a succor of forty 
or fifty men." 

In response to the above letters, at a meeting at wiiich were present Hon- 
orable Director- General Peter Stuyvesant and three councillors, the following 
action was taken: They took up and seriously considered the letters from Esopus. 
By the first they were informed that the savages had killed Harmen Jacobsen 
and set fire to two houses, and behaved and acted very insolently and wantonly; 
by the second the savages were continuing in their intolerable insolence and 
boldness, forcing the people there to plow for them, etc. It was therefore re- 
solved that the Director-General should go there foi-thwith, and fifty or sixty 
soldiers as a body-guard, to make arrangements. This ])irector- General was 
no less a personage than Peter the Headstrong, of whom Washington Irving 
gives the following facetious description: 

"Peter Stuyvesant was the last, and, like the renowned Wouter Van 
T wilier, the best of our ancient Dutch governors, Wouter having sur]iassed aU 
who preceded him, and Peter never having been equalled by any successor. He 
was of a sturdy, raw boned make, with a pair of round shoulders that Her- 
cules would have given his hide for, when he undertook to ease old Atlas of his 
load. He ^vas, moreover, not only terrible for the force of his arm, but like- 
wise of his voice, which sounded as if it came from a barrel; and he possessed 
an iron aspect that was enough of itself to make the very bowels of his adver- 
saries quake with teiTor and dismay. All this martial excellence of appearance 
was inexpressibly heightened by an accidental advantage, that of a wooden leg; 
of which he was so proud that he was often heard to declare he valued it more 
than all his other limbs put together. Like Achilles, he was somewhat sub- 
ject to extempore bursts of passion, which were lather unpleasant to his favor- 
ites and attendants, whose perceptions he was wont to quicken, after the man- 
ner of his illustrious imitator, Peter the Great, by anointing their shoulders with 



1 8 Legends of the Shawangufik. 

his walking staff." The following is embodied in the journal of Governor 
Stuyvesant's visit to Esopus: 

" We left in the private yachts on the 28th day of May, arriving at the kill 
of the Esopus on the 29th. To avoid commotion among the savages, or causing 
them to flee at the sight of so many soldiers before they could be spoken with, I 
ordered the accompanying yachts to follow separately at a distance, and not to 
anchor near me before nightfall, nor to show too many soldiers on deck at 
once. I sent a barge ashore opposite to two little houses of the savages, to in- 
vite two or three of the Indians aboard. The barge presently came back with 
two savages, and also Thomas Chambers and another man, who w^ere induced 
to come down to look for help from the good south wind and expected relief. 
I persuaded the savages by a little present to go inland and induce the Indian 
sachems to meet me at the home of Jacob Jansen Stohl the following day, his 
being the last dwelhng in contiguity, or the day after that, assuring them that 
no harm should come to them or theirs. They agreed to do it, and were put 
on shore after I had some further talk with the two Christians, Chambers and 
Van Der Sluj^s. The other yachts arriving during the evening passed by us 
who were aground close to the shore. I ordered the soldiers landed with the 
least possible noise, without beating the drum; which being done, they were 
to send for me and my people on my yacht. We marched the same evening to 
the ' bouwery ' of Thomas Chambers, that being the nearest, for the night. 
On the morning of the 30th, that being Ascension Day, we marched to the 
house of Jacob Jansen Stohl, nearest to the habitations and plantations of the 
savages, where we had made the appointment to meet them, and where, on Sun- 
days and at the usual feasts, the Scriptures were read. 

" When the people had assembled in the afternoon I stated to them that I 
had come with sixty soldiers, asking of them their opinion of what it were best 
to do; that I did not think the present time was favorable to involve the whole 
country in a general war on account of the murder, the burning of tw^o small 
houses and other complaints about threats of the Indians; that now in summer, 
with the prospect of a good harvest, it was not the proper time to make bad 
worse, least of all by giving room too hastily to a blind fear; that it was not in 
our power to protect them and the other outlying farmers as long as they lived 
separately from each other, and insisted upon it contrary to the order of the 
Company. 

"They answered they should be ruined and indigent men if they w^ere 
again obliged to leave their property, which result would follow if they could 
get no protection against the savages. I told them they could get no protection 
as long as they lived separately; that it was necessary that they should remove 
together at a suitable place, w^here I could and would assist them with a few 
soldiers until further ai'rangements were made; or they might retreat with their 
wives, children, cattle, and most easily removed property to the Manhattans, or 
Eort Orange for safety; but if they could make up their minds to neither, they 
must not in future disturb us with complaints. 



The First Esopus War, lo 

" Each was of opinion that it was dangerous to remain in their present con- 
dition; tliere was a good harvest in prospect, with whicli they ]ioi)ed to sustain 
their faniihes the coming winter; to abandon those fertile fields at tliis jiuicture 
would occasion great loss, and entail upon them and their famihes abject pov- 
erty. The necessity of a concentrated settlement was at length conceded, but 
it was thought impracticable to effect the removal of the houses and barns 
before harvest time, in addition to the labor of inclosing the place with paU- 
sades. They plead very earnestly that the soldiers might remain with them un- 
til after the harvest; this I peremptorily refused, and insisted that they should 
make up their minds without delay. To encourage them I promised to remain 
with the soldiers until the place was enclosed with palisades, provided they 
went to work immediately, before taking up anything else. Another difficulty 
l)i:esented itself— each one thought his place the most conveniently located for 
the proposed enclosure. But on the last day of May the inhabitants brought 
answer that they had agreed unanimously to make a concentrated settlement, 
and each had acquiesced in the place selected, and in the final arrangements. 
The grounds were staked out that same afternoon. 

" In response to my request of the Indian chiefs for a conference, twelve oi- 
fifteen savages made their appearance at the house of Jacob Jansen Stohl, but 
only two chiefs were among them. They explained that the other sachems 
would not come before the next day; that they were frightened at so many sol- 
diers, and hardly dared to appear; also that they had been informed that more 
soldiers were to follow. 

"After assurances on my part that no harm should befall them, they be- 
came more cheerful; and the same evening about fifty savages made their 
a])pearance at the house of Stohl. After they had all gathered under a tree 
outside of the enclosure, about a stone's throw from the hedge, I went to them, 
and so soon as we had sat down, they, as is their custom, began a long speech, 
telling how in Kieft's time our nation had killed so many of their people, which 
they had put away and forgotten. 

" I answered that this all happened before my time, and did not concern 
me; that they and the other savages had drawn it all upon themselves by kill- 
ing several Christians which I would not repeat, because when peace was made 
the matter had all been forgotten and jiut away among us [their customary ex- 
pression on such occasions]. 

" I asked them if since peace was made any harm had been done to them 
or theirs; they kept a profound silence. I stated to them and u])braided them 
for the murders, injuries, and insults during my administration, to discover the 
truth and authors of which I had come to Esopus at this time, yet witli no de- 
sire to begin a general war, or punish any one imiocent of it, if the nnirderer 
was surrendered and the damages for the burned houses paid. I added that 
they had invited us to settle on their lands in the Esopus, that we did not owti 
the land, nor did we desire to initil we had paid for it. I asked why they had com- 
mitted the murders, burned the houses, killed the hogs, and did other injuries. 



20 Legends of the Shawangunk. 

" Finally one of the sachems stood up and said that the Dutch sold the 
' boison ' [brandy] to the savages, and were the cause of the Indians becoming 
' cacheus ' [crazy] mad or drunk, and that then they had committed the out- 
rages; that at such times they, the chiefs, could not keep in bounds the young 
men who were then spoiling for a fight; that the murder had not been com- 
mitted by any one of their tribe, but by a Neversink savage; that the Indian 
who had set fire to the houses had run away and would not be here. That they 
were not enemies; they did not desire or intend to fight, but had no control 
over the young men. 

" I told them if the young men had a desire to fight to come forward now; 
I would match them, man for man, or twenty against thirty or even forty; that 
now was the proper time for it; that it was not well to plague, injure or threaten 
the farmers, or their women and children; that if they did not cease in future, 
we might try to i^ecover damages. We could kill them, capture their wives 
and children, and destroy their corn and beans. I would not do it because I 
told them I would not harm them; but I hoped they would immediately indem- 
nify the owner of the houses, and deliver up the nuirderer. 

"To close the conference I stated my decision: that to prevent further 
harm being done to my people, or the selling of more brandy to the Indians, my 
people should all remove to one place and live close by each other; that they 
might better seU me the whole country of the Swannekers [Dutch] so that the 
hogs of the latter could not run into the corn-fields of the savages and be killed 
by them. The chiefs then asked through Stohl and Chambers that I would not 
begin a war with them on account of the late occurrence, as it had been done 
while they were drunk; they promised not to do so again. 

" On Monday, June 3d, the soldiers witli all the inhabitants began work 
on the palisades. The spot marked out for a settlement has a circumference of 
about 210 rods,* weU adapted by nature for defensive purposes; and when ne- 
cessity requires it can be surrounded by water on three of its sides. To carry on 
the work with greater speed and order I directed a party of soldiers and expe- 
rienced wood-cutters to go into the woods and help load the palisades into 
wagons; the others I divided again into parties of twenty men each, to sharpen 
the palisades and put them up. The inhabitants who were able were set to 
digging the moat, who continued to do so as long as the wind and the rain per- 
mitted. 

" Towards evening of the 4th of June a party of forty or fifty savages came 
to where we were at work, so that I ordered six men from each squad to look 
after their arras. After w^ork had been stopped they asked to speak to me. 
They informed me they had concluded to give me the land I had asked to buy 
to ' grease my feet,' as I had come so long a way to see them. They promised 
in future to do no harm to the Dutch, but would go hand in hand and arm in 
arm with them. 

* Dutch rod 13 feet. 



The Fij'st E sop us liar. 21 

" Being in need of gunpowder, of which ^ve had only what was in the ' ban- 
doleers, ' and lacking some plank for a guard-house, and some carpenters to aid 
in our work, I concluded to go in tlie Comi)any's yacht to Fort Orange for the 
same. I arrived back at Esopus on the afternoon of the 12th, and found every 
body at work, and two sides of the pahsades finished. About noon of the 20th 
the stockade was completed, it being necessary only to stop apertures where 
roots of trees had been in the ground: this was completed in good time the same 
day. 

" Having accomplished the work so far I set out on my return, leaving 24 
soldiers to assist in guarding the place. As they had themselves 30 fighting 
men, besides seven or eight carpenters, they were in my opinion capable of 
taking care of themselves." 

But the peace begun under such favorable auspices was of short duration, 
as v/e learn by a letter from Sergeant Lawrens, the officer in charge of the mili- 
tary at Esopus, to Governor Stuyvesant. He wrote: — 

" Send me quickly orders. The Indians are becoming savage and insolent, 
and have killed a fine mare belonging to Jacob Jansen. They are angry that 
you challenged twenty of their men to figlit. Those returned from the beaver- 
hunt say if they had been here they would have accepted the challenge. Thev 
talk about it every day ; and to-day about five hundred savages are assembled, 
and their numbers constantly increasing. Provide us as quickly as possible 
with annnunition." Ensign Dirck Smith was dispatched to the relief of the 
garrison with twenty-five additional troops, making the fighting strength a total 
of fifty men, exclusive of the citizens. 

Smith was directed to make secure the enclosed place, mount a sufficient 
guard, and not allow any savage to pass through except upon permission of 
Jacob Jansen Stohl or Thomas Chambers. They were not to act " hostilely " 
against the Indians, but to stand strictly on the defensive. The agricultural 
labors were to be kept up under a guard of from twenty to twenty-five men; 
the laborers themselves were directed to take their arms with them, " that in 
case of attack they may make abetter stand against the savages;" and were 
also instructed to keep as close together as possible. 

In October of 1658 the Esopus sachems made a conveyance of the land as 
they had promised. They said they hoped the soldiers would now lay down 
their arms, that the settlers need now fear notliing. Tliey promised they would 
hunt many beavers and pass right by Fort Orange with their peltries; they 
liked to see the plows work, but no soldiers. " Tl^e following graphic account of 
a coUision between the savages and the settlers we find in tlu^ records: 

" To the Honorable, Wise and very Valiant, His Honor Director General Peter 
Stuyvesant at Neic Amsterdam : — 

"As on the 20th, at night between 10 and 11 o'clock, some savages raised 
a gi-eat noise and yelling under the fort, whereupon Dirck de Goyer and two 
others alarmed me on the guard, I commanded the sergeant to take nine or ten 



2 2 Legends of the SJiazva7igii7ik. 

men, and directed him to go out by one of the gates and return by the other 
one, and not to molest anybody. The sergeant sent back word that a crowd of 
savages was there. Jacob Jansen Stohl came to the guard, saying ' I will go, 
give me four or five men. ' After they had returned I asked them who ordered 
them to fire, and they said the savages had shot first. Jacob Jansen Stohl re- 
plied violently that the dogs [Indians] had vexed us long enough ; that they lie 
in the bushes all around; and that they have fired innumerable brand arrows 
into grain stacks and barns. They attempted to set fire to the barn of Hap, 
but the barn being covered with plank, the corn was saved; and they have 
killed several cattle belonging to us. One prisoner escaped from them; he gives 
the number of savages as four hundred. He thought the white prisoners in 
their hands were all alive, but badly off. He said further, if we had not some 
cannon here, not one of us, large or small, would have escaped." 

The records say when the Dutch came to the place they fired a volley among 
the Indians as they lay around a fire. 

One savage was knocked in the head with an axe, and was left for dead, 
but he presently made off. Another, while lying on the ground stupidly drunk, 
was hewn on the head with a cutlass, which roused him so that he fled; after 
which the Dutch retreated to the fort with great speed. We find the following 
version of the affair given by the Catskill Indians: — 

Eight Esopus Indians broke off corn ears for Thomas Chambers. When 
they finished work the savages said, " Come, give us brandy." Chambers re- 
plied, " When it is dark. " When evening was come he gave a large bottle with 
brandy to the Indians. They retired to a place at no great distance from the 
fort and sat down to drink. The eight savages drank there until midnight; by 
that time they wei-e drunk, and they began to yell. At length the brandy came 
to an end. One Indian said, " Buy more brandy; we still have wampum. " The 
savage who was afterwards killed went to Chambers* house to get more brandy. 
Chambers said, " I have given you all I had." The savage then went to where 
the soldiers were, taking with him the bottle which he hid und^r his cloak. 
" Have you any brandy ? " said the Indian. " Yes, I have brandy," answered a 
soldier, " Here is wampum, give me brandy for it." " What is wampum, and 
what can I do with it \ where is your kettle V said the soldier. " I have no 
kettle, but I have a bottle here under my cloak," re])lied the savage. The sol- 
dier filled the bottle, but would take nothing for the brandy. 

The savage came to his comrades who were lying about and crying, and 
asked them, " Why do you cry ? I have brouglit brandy !" Whereupon they 
changed their cry, and asked if he had given all the wampum. " No, a soldier 
gave it to me." They replied " that is very good," and began to drink lustily 
from the bottle, because they had no goblet or ladle. When the bottle was pass 
ed around the savages began to wrangle and fight. Two of them presently 
said to each other, " We have no cause to fight, let us go away;" so they went 
away, leaving six. After a little time one of the remaining savages said, " Come, 



The First ] 'I sop lis War 



-o 



let us go away; I feel that we shall be killed." Said the other, " You are crazy; 
who should kill us ? We would not kill the Dutch, and have nothing to foar 
from them or the other Indians." " Yes," repUed he, " hut I nevertheless am. 
so heavy-hearted." 

The bottle was passed twice, and the savage said again, " Come, let us go; 
my heart is full of fears." He went off and hid his goods in the bushes at a 
little distance. Coming back drunk once more they heard the bushes crackle; 
as the Dutch came there, without knowing who it was. Then this savage went 
away, saying " Come, let us go, for we all shall be killed ;" and the rest laid 
down together, whereupon the Dutch came and all of them fired into the Indians, 
shooting one in the head and capturing another. One drunken savage was con- 
tinually moving about, whereupon the Dutch fired upon him repeatedly, nearly 
taking his dress fi-om his body. 

Ensign Smith knew what the consequences of this outbreak would be, and 
he sought to ascertain who ordered the firing contrary to his express instruc- 
tions. The Dutch cast aU the blame on the Indians, saying that the latter fired 
first. The affau-s of the colony being in such an unsatisfactory state, and find- 
ing the people would not respect his authority. Smith announced his intention 
of leaving for Xew Amsterdam next day. Great excitement was manifested 
when this became known. The people tried to dissuade him from his purpose 
by representing their exposed condition, and making assurances of futui-e obe- 
dience on their part. Smith was intractable, and continued making jirepara- 
tions for his departure; but by an adroit measure of Stohl and Chambers, who 
hired aU the boats in the neighborhood, he found himself unable to carry out 
his resolution. It was deemed expedient, however, to acquaint the Governor 
of the state of affairs, and accordingly Christopher Davis was dispatched down 
the river in a canoe for that pui'pose. 

Davis was escorted to the river by a company of eight soldieir, and ten 
citizens, under Sergeant Lawrentsen, Sept. 21st, 1059. On the return of the 
escort to the village they fell into an ambuscade near where now stands the City 
HaU; the Sergeant and thirteen men surrendered without firing a shot, the rest 
making their escape. War now began in earnest. More than five hundred sav- 
ages were in the vicinity of the fort, who kept up a constant skirmish with the 
settlers. By means of firebrands they set fire to the house of Jacob Gebers; 
numbers of barracks, stacks and barns were in like manner destroyed. One day 
they made a desperate assault on the pahsades wliich came near being success- 
ful. Failing in this, the savages slaughtered all the horses, cattle and hogs they 
could find outside the defenses. Three weeks was a constant siege kept up so 
that " none dare go abroad. " Unable to take the town they vented their fury on 
the unfortunate prisoners. 

Jacob Jansen Van Stoutenburgh, Abram Vosbm-g, a son of Cornelius B. 
Sleight, and five or six other were compelled to run the gauntlet; they were 
next tied to stakes, and, after being beaten and cut in the most cruel manner, 
were burned a-li\^. Thomas Clapboard [Chambers], William the carpenter. 



24 Legends of the ShawaugiLii/c. 

Peter Hillebrants and Evert Pel's son were among the captives. These are the 
only names mentioned in the early records. Clapboard w^as taken by six war- 
riors down the Esopus kill. At night he removed the cords by which he was 
bonnd, and successively knocked five of his captors in the head while they were 
asleep, killing the sixth before he could fly, and making good his escape. An- 
other prisoner, a soldier, got home safely after a somewhat rough experience 
Peter Laurentsen and Peter Hillebrants were ransomed; Pel's son, then a mere 
youth, was adopted into the tribe and married among them. Overtures were 
afterwards made to the Indians by the friends of the lad for his return; but the 
savages answered that he "wished to stay with his squaw and i)appoose, and 
he ought to. ' ' 

News of these events filled the v^rhole colony with fear and forebodings. 
Stuyvesant had only six or seven soldiers in garrison at Amsterdam, and they 
were sick and unqualified for duty. He then sent to Fort Orange and Rensselaer- 
wyck for reinforcements; but the inhabitants of Fort Orange could not succor 
without leaving their own homes defenseless. The Governor asked for volun- 
teers, offering Indians as prizes; only six or seven responded. He then con- 
scripted all the garrison at Amsterdam, the Company's servants, the hands in 
his brewery and the clerks. The people made great opposition to this, averring 
that " they were not liable to go abroad and fight savages." 

Notwithstanding these hindrances Governor Stuyvesant set sail October 9th 
with about 100 men, and reached Esopus next day. Here he found the siege 
had been raised thirty-six hours before, and that the savages had retreated to 
their homes whither the Governor's troops could not foUow them, for the coun- 
try was then inundated with nearly a foot of water from the frequent rains. 

In the spring of 1660, there was a renewal of hostilities; an Indian castle 
having been plundered, and several savages taken captive, the Indians sued for 
peace and proposed an exchange of prisoners. Stuyvesant declined their over- 
tures, and prosecuted the war with vigor, sending some of the captive chiefs, 
then in his hands, to Curagoa, as slaves to the Dutch, 

The clans now held a council. Said Sewackenamo, the Esopus chief, 
"What will you do?" "We will fight no more," said the warriors. "We 
wish to plant in peace," replied the squaws. " We will kill no more hogs," 
answered the young men. 

Stuyvesant met their propositions with an extravagant demand for land. 
The fertile corn-planting grounds of the Walkill and Rondout valleys had excited 
the cupidity of the colonists. The savages were loth to give up so much of 
their territory, but they finally acceded to the Governor's demand. During the 
negotiations the Indians plead for the restoration of their enslaved chiefs. But 
in pursuance of Stuyvesant's policy, those ancient sachems had become the 
chattels of Dutchmen, and were toiHng, under the lash, in the maize and bean- 
fields among the islands of the far-off Caribbean Sea; so the Governor replied 
that they must be considered dead. Although deeply grieved at this, the chiefs 
agreed to the treaty, and departed. 



Tkc Second Esopus \Va7'. 25 



THE SECOND ESOPUS WAR. 

SOME acts of criiiiination and recrimination liaving occurred between the 
Dutch settlers of Kingston and Hurley and their Indian neighbors, grow- 
ing out of a misunderstanding in regard to some lands, the feud finally 
terminated in what is spoken of in the Documentary History of New York 
as the "Massacre at the Esopus." To be more certain of success the Esopus 
clans endeavored to get the Wappinger Indians of Duchess, and other of the 
neighboring clans, to join them, and succeeded partially. To lull the suspicions 
of the whites, a proposition for a new treaty was made only two days before the 
attack , 

On the Tth of June, lOiiS, a band of two hundred Indians entered the two 
villages in the forenoon, from different points, and dispersed themselves among 
the dwellings in a friendly manner, having with them a little maize and a few 
beans; under pretense of selling these they went about from place to place to 
discover the strength of the men. After they had been in Kingston about a 
quarter of an hour, some people on horseback rushed through the mill-gate cry- 
ing out — "The Indians have destroyed the New Village!" And with these 
words the savages immediately fired their guns, and made a general attack on 
the village from the rear, hewing down the whites with their axes and toma- 
hawks. They seized what women and children they could and carried them 
prisoners outside the gates, plundered the houses, and set the village on fu-e to 
windward, it blowing at the time from the south. The remaining Indians com- 
manded all the streets, firing from the corner houses which they occupied, and 
through the curtains outside along the highways, so that some of the inhabi- 
tants while on their way to their houses to get their arms were wounded and 
sin in. When the flames had reached their height the wind veered to the west, 
otherwise the flames would have been much more destructive. So rapidly did 
the murderers do their woi-k that those in different parts of the village were not 
aware of what was transpiring until they ha])pened to meet the wounded in the 
streets. Few of the men were in the village, the rest being abroad at their field 
labors. Capt. Thomas Chambers, who was wounded on coming in from the 
fields, issued immediate orders to secure the gates, to clear the gun and drive 
(^ff the savages, which was accordingly done. After the few men in the vil- 
lage had been collected, and l)y degrees others arriving fi-om different quarters, 
being attracted by the columns of smoke and tlie firing, they nuistered in the 
evening sixty-nine efficient men. The burnt palisades were immediately re- 
placed with new ones, and the i)(M)ple distributed, during the night, along the 
bastions and curtains to kee)) watcli. 

In this attack on the two Aillages fifteen men, four women and two children 
"were killed. ^Tost of tlic women and children kill(Ml wej-e burned to death. Of 



26 Legends of the Shawa^tgunk. 

the prisoners taken by the Indians at this outbreak there were thirteen women, 
thirty children, and one man. At Kingston twelve houses were burned, while 
the New Village was entirely destroyed. 

Soldiers were now sent up from New York, and the Indians were limited 
like wild beasts from mountain to mountain. The force employed, including 
the volunteers from Esopus, numbered nearly three hundred men. Scouting 
parties were sent out in every direction in which it was supposed hostile In- 
dians could be found, destroying their crops and burning their wigwams. 

On the 26th of July a party of upwards of two hundred men, including forty- 
one Long Island Indians and seven negroes, left Kingston to attack the savages 
at their fort about thirty miles distant, "mostly" in a southwest direction. 
They had as a guide a woman who had been a prisoner of the Indians, and took 
with them two pieces of cannon and two wagons. The cannon and wagons 
they were forced to abandon before reaching the fort. They intended to sur- 
prise the Indians, but found the fort untenanted except l)y a solitary squaw. 
The next day they sent a force to surprise the savages on the mountain, but 
were unable to surprise any. For two days and a half the whole party then 
employed themselves in destroying the growing crops and old maize of the In- 
dians, the latter of which was stored in pits. Over two hundred acres of corn, 
and more than one hundred pits of corn and beans, were rendered worthless by 
the invading forces. The natives witnessed these proceedings from their look- 
out stations on the Shawangunk and neighboring mountains, but made no re- 
sistance, Quiiilan supposes this fort to have been on the headwaters of the 
Kerhonkson. After this expedition the savages proceeded to build a new fort 
thirty-six miles south-southwest of Kingston, The site of this fort is on the 
right bank of the Shawangunk kill, near the village of Bruynswick. Against 
this fort Capt. Kregier marched the following September, with a force of fifty- 
five men and an Indian guide, Kregier says in his journal, in substance: 

It having rained all day the expedition must rest for the present. Asked 
the Sheriff and commissaries whether they could not get some horses to accom- 
pany us, so that we may be able to place the wounded on them if we should 
happen to have any. After great trouble obtained six horses, but received 
spiteful and insulting words from many of the inhabitants. One said, let those 
furnish horses who commenced the war. Another said, if they want anything 
they will have to take it by force. The third said he must first liave his horse 
valued and have security for it. 

About one o'clock on the afternoon of the 3d we started from Fort Wilt- 
wyck; marched about three miles to the creek and lay there that night, during 
which we had great rain. The next morning we found such high water and 
swift current in the kill that it was impossible to ford it. Sent men on horse- 
back to Fort Wiltwyck for axes and rope to cross the creek. Crossed over 
about two o'clock in the afternoon and marched four miles further on, where we 
bivouacked for the r iglit. Set out again at daybreak, and about noon came to 
their first maize-field, where we discovered two squaws and a Dutch woman 



The Second Esopiis IVar. 27 

who had come from their new fort that morning to get corn. But as the creek 
lay between us and the corn-field, though we would fain have the women, we 
could not ford the stream without being discovered; we therefore turned in 
through the wood so as not to be seen. 

About two o'clock in the afternoon w^e arnved in sight of their fort, vvhicli 
we discovered situated on a lofty plain. Divided our force in two, and pro- 
ceeded in this disposition along the kill so as not to be seen and in order to come 
right under the fort. But as it was somewhat level on the left of the fort, the 
soldiers Avere seen by a squaw^ who was piling wood there, who thereupon set 
up a terrible scream. This alarmed the Indians who were working upon the fort, 
so we instantly fell upon them. The savages rushed through tlie fort towards 
their houses in order to secure their arms, and thus hastily picked up a few 
bows and arrows and some of their guns, but we w^ere so close at their heels 
they were forced to leave some of them behind. We kept up a sharp fire on 
them and pursued them so closely that they leaped into the creek which ran in 
front of the lower part of their maize land. On reaching the opposite side of 
the kill they courageously returned our fire, so that we were obhged to send a 
party across to dislodge them. 

In this attack the Indians lost their chief, fourteen other warriors, four 
w^omen and three children, whom we saw lying on this and on the other side of 
the creek; but probably many others were wounded. We also took thirteen of 
them prisoners, besides an old man wii<i accompanied us about half an hour, 
but would go no farther. We took him aside and gave him his last meal. We 
also recovered twenty-three Christian prisoners out of their hands. A cai)tive 
Indian child died on the way, so that there remained eleven of them still our 
prisoners. 

We next reviewed our men and found we had three killed, and one more 
wounded than we had horses. We then held a council of war; after delibera- 
tion it was determined to let the maize stand for the present. We however 
plundered the houses, wdierein was considerable booty, such as bear and deer 
skins, blankets, elk hides, besides other smaller articles, many of which w-e 
were obhged to leave behind us, for we could well have filled a slooj). We de- 
stroyed as much as we could; broke the kettles into pieces, took also twenty 
four guns, more than half of which we smashed, and threw the barrels here 
and there in the stream. We found also several horns and bags* of powder, and 
thirty-one belts and some strings of wampum. We took the best of the booty 
along and resolved to set off. We placed the wounded on hcn-ses and had 
one carried in a blanket on poles by two soldiers in turns. The first day we 
marched two miles from the fort. 

The Christian prisoners informed us that they were removed every night 
into ine woods, each night to a different place, through fear of the Dutch, and 
brought back in the morning; but on the day l)efore we attacked them, a Mo- 
hawk visited them, who remained with them during the night. When about 
to convey the Christian captives again into the woods the Mohawk said to the 



28 Legends of the S/uizoLDigiiiik. 

Esopus Indians — " What, do you cany the Christian prisoners every night into 
the woods?" To which they answered "Yes." Hereupon the Mohawk said 
"Let them remain at liberty here, for you hve so far in the woods that the 
Dutch will not come hither, for they cannot come so fai' without being discov- 
ered before they reach you." So they kept the prisoners by them that night. 
The Mohawk departed in the morning, leaving a new blanket and two pieces of 
cloth, which fell to us as a booty. 

Early on the morning of the 6th we resumed our journey. The same day 
came just beyond the Esopus kill, where we remained that night. At this place 
the Indian child died, which we threw into the creek. Arrived at Wiltwyck 
about noon of the following day. 

On the 22d a detachment was sent out from Wiltwyck to guard some plow- 
men while they labored in the fields. About midnight the party passed along 
the kill where some maize lay, about two hours march from the village. On 
arriving there they fouad only a small patch of maize, as it had all been plucked 
by some straggling Indians or bears. Our people carried off what remained. 
The Indian prisoners whom we held had first informed us, to-day, that a small 
spot of corn had been planted there principally to supply food to stragglers who 
went to and fro to injure the Christians. Should they come again they'll not 
find any food. 

About eleven o'clock on the following night, a party was sent about three 
miles in a northeasterly direction from Wiltwyck, having been informed there 
was some Indian maize at that place, to see if they could not remove it either 
by land or water. They returned about two o'clock in the afternoon of the 
next day and reported they had been on the Indians' maize plantation, but saw 
no Indians, nor anything to indicate they had been there for a long time, for 
the maize had not been hoed, and therefore had not come to its full growth, 
and had been much injured by wild animals. One plantation however was 
good, having been hoed by the Indians, but that was likewise much injured by 
wild beasts. They said it was beautiful maize land, suitable for a number of 
bouweries, and for the immediate reception of the plow. On Sunday afternoon, 
September 30th, powder and ball were distributed to the soldiers and friendly 
Indians, in the proportion of one pound of powder, one pound of lead and three 
pounds of biscuit for each man, who was to accompany an expedition into the 
Indian country. On Monday marched from Wiltwyck with lOS men and 40 
Marseping Indians. About two o'clock of the following day we came to the 
foil; of the Esopus Indians that we had attacked on the 5th of September, and 
there found five large pits into which they had cast their dead. The wolves 
had rooted up and devoui-ed some of them. Lower down on the kiU were four 
other pits full of dead Indians and we found further on the bodies of three In- 
dians, with a squaw and a child, that lay unburied and almost wholly devoured 
by the ravens and the wolves. We pulled up the Indian fort and threw the 
palisades, one on the other, in sundry heaps and set them on fire, together with 
the wigwams around the fort, and thus the fort and houses were destroyed and 



The Second E sop us IVa?-. 2l; 

burnt. About 10 o'clock Ave marched thence down along the creek where lay 
divers maize plantations, which we also destroyed and cast the maize into the 
creek. Several large wigwams also stood there, which we burnt. Having de- 
stroyed everything we returned to Wiltwyck, i-eaching there in the evening of 
the next day. 

About noon of Sunday, October 7th, a girl was brought up from the Re- 
doubt [RondoutJ, who, the day befoi-e, had ai-rived on the opjjosite bank at that 
place, and was immediately conveyed across the stream. The girl said she had 
escaped from an Indian who had taken her prisoner, and who resided in the 
mountain on the other side of the creek about three miles from Wiltwyck, 
where he had a hut, and a small patch of corn which he had pulled, and had 
been there about three weeks to remove the coin. She had tried to escape be- 
fore, but could not find her way out of the woods, and was foi'ced to return to 
the hut. Forty, men were at once sent out to try and catch the Indian. They 
reached the hut before sunset, which they surrounded with the intention of 
surprising the savage, but the hut was found to be empty. They found a lot 
of corn near the hut, and another lot at the kill, part of which they Inirned, 
and a part they brought back with them. They remained in the hut during 
the night and watched there. On the 10th of that month, Louis Du Bois, the 
Walloon, went to fetch his oxen which had gone back of Juriaen Westphaelen's 
land. As he was about to drive home the oxen, three Indians, who lay in the 
bush with the intention of taking him prisoner, leaped forth. One of the sav- 
ages shot at him with an arrow, sUghtly wounding him, whereupon Louis 
struck the Indian a heavy blow on the breast with a piece of palisade, and so 
escai>8d through the kill, and brought the news to the fort. Two detachments 
were instantly dispatched to attack them, but they had taken to flight and re- 
treated into the woods. 

The Indians were finally cowed. Their principal warriors had been slain, 
their fort and wigwams burned, and their food and peltiies destroyed. A long 
hai'd winter was before them, and the ruthless white soldiers ready to swoop 
down u})on them at any moment. Under these circumstances the Delawares 
sued for peace, and the truce was observed for a period of about ninety years, 
or until the breaking out of the French and Indian war. 

When Capt. Kregier marched against the new fort his forces probably 
crossed the Shawangunk kill at Tuthilltown, and keeping along the high ground 
came in rear of the fort. A portion of the command marched doAvni the hill di- 
rectly on the fort, while the other detachment cut off their escape in the other 
direction. This fort stood on the brow of a hill overhanging the creek; in the 
side of this hill there is a living spring with the Indian path still leading to it. 
The old Wawarsing trail led from this fort, crossing the Shawangunk mountain 
near Sam's Point. 



30 Legends of the Shawangitnk. 



THE ESOPUS MUTINY. 

AFTER the capitulation of New Amsterdam and its dependencies to the Duke 
of York, in 1064, some English troops were sent to garrison Esopus. 
They were under command of Capt. Broadhead, an arrogant, ill-tempered, 
overbearing officer, whom the Dutch soon came to hate with all the fervor 
of their natures. There was a constant collision between the English mil- 
itary authorities and the Dutch civil magistrates. The inhabitants drew up a 
formal complaint against the garrison, and among the charges were the follow- 
ing: - 

Cornelius Barentsen Sleight is beaten in his own house by soldier George 
Porter, and was after this by other soldiers forced to prison, and by some sol- 
diers at his imprisonment used very hard. 

Capt. Broadhead hath beaten Tierck Clausen and without any reason brought 
to prison. 

Capt. Broadhead, coming to the house of Lewis Du Bois, took an anker of 
brandy and threw it upon the ground because Du Bois refused him brandy with- 
out payment, and did likewise force the said Du Bois to give him brandy. 
[Broadhead afterwards said in extenuation of the act that the anker was not 
broken, and no brandy spilled.] 

And the said Du Bois' wife coming to Broadhead's house for money, he 
drove her out of the house with a knife. 

The soldier George Porter coming in the barn of Peter Hillebrants, and 
finding there Dierck Hendricks, took his sword and thrust it through Dierck's 
breeches. 

Two soldiers coming to Miller's to steal his hens, and Miller in defending 
his hens, was by the soldiers beaten in his own house. 

Besides all this we are threatened by Capt. Broadhead and his soldiers that 
they will burn down all this town and all they that are therein — " Therefore we 
do most humbly supplicate that you will be pleased to remonstrate and make 
known unto the Governor the sad condition we are in, from whom we hope to 
have redress. " 

In answer to the above "standings," Captain Broadhead replies that he 
will keep Cornelius Sleight in apprehension " as longe as he thincks good," and 
that in case the inhabitants will " fitch '' him by force, that he would wait upon 
them. 

The soldiers in their own behalf say they went to the burgher's [Sleight's] 
house by Broadhead's command, when they found the burgher with his piece 
cocked, and his hanger [sword] drawn and laid uj)on his arm; they disarmed 
him by force and brought him prisoner to the guard. But at their first ar- 
rival at the aforesaid house they " found Capt. Broadhead with his cravat torn 



I 



The EsopMS JMittiny. 3 1 

and Thrown away, and his face scratclied and very much abused/' [It would 
appear that Sleight and the English Captain liad been indulging in a little 
scrimmage, in which the latter had got the worst of it].' 

Eight or nine Dutchmen went armed to the place where their comrade was 
confined, headed by Hendrick Yockams. Capt. Broad head with seven men 
marched to them and demanded the occasion of their being in arms. Tlieir 
lieutenant made answer that they would have the burgher out of the guard. 
Broadhead commanded them to return with their arms to their houses; their 
lieutenant re])lied they would not, but would have the prisoner out of the guard. 

One of their party, by name Anthony, a Frenchman, presented his piece 
against our Captain, being loaded with nine small bullets, and swore if he 
moved a foot he v^^ould fire upon him, and would not be persuaded nor com- 
manded, but did persist in his rebellious actions. 

They sent "for Capt, Thomas Chambers, who lived outside the stockade, 
thinking he would have headed them, but he would not; but connnanded them 
to return with their arms to their houses. They continued under arms until 
about nine in the evening, threatening that they would fetch the burgher out 
by force that night, and villifying us with our small party of men, saying, 
"What is fifteen or sixteen men to seventy or eighty?" as continually they 
have done from the beginning. 

Another of the rebellious party by name of Albert Hymons, the chief in- 
stigator of the first rising, gave out speeches in the hearing of the soldiers that 
" if he had been in command he would not have left one English soldier aUve 
in the Esopus," 

Tyerk Clausen says the reason why Capt. Broadhead abused him Avas be- 
cause he would keep Christmas on the day customary with the Dutch, and not 
on the day according to the EngUsh observation. Capt. Broadhead acknowl- 
edged it. 

De Monts swore that last New Year's Day he had some friends at his liouse, 
and Captain Broadhead quarreled with the wife of Harmen Hendricksen, and 
threw a glass of beer in her face. 

The burghers brought into court a paper to excuse their being in arms, — 
" because Captain Broadhead and the soldiers threatened to burn the town, and 
all that was in it, and also because Captain Broadhead had committed a burghei- 
to prison, and had misused and cut him, so that his wife and childi-en ran about 
the town crying that the Enghsh had killed their father.'' 

Jacob Johnson and Claus Clasen sAvorn and said the reason why Antonio 
Dalve presented his gmi at Capt. Broadhead was because he made to him with 
his naked cutlass, and threatened therewith to cut him in pieces. 

When Capt. Thomas Chambers commanded the Dutch to return to their 
homes, and they refused, he went to the English guard and told them they 
were a lot of stubborn rogues, and would not be commanded by him. Where- 
upon he said he would have nothing to do with said mutinous rogues, and re- 
tiuiied to his own house. 



32 Legends of the SJiazuaiigiink, 

The wife of Cornelius Sleight, and her daughter, complaining to the Court 
that Capt. Broadhead had grievously cut, beat and wounded her husband, upon 
which the Court dispatched a messenger to request Captain Broadhead to come 
to the Court and received the following answer, " That if the Commissary would 
speak with him they might come to him, ' ' the burghers then being in arms. 

The Court thereupon ordered Captain Chambers and Evert Pelce to desire 
Captain Broadhead to release the said burgher, and that if Sleight had offended 
him, he should, according to the Governor's order, complain to the magis- 
trates, who would see that he was punished according to his deserts. To which 
Broadhead made answer, " that he would keep the said Cornelius as long as he 
pleased, and if they would fetch him he would be ready to wait upon them.'' 

Antonio Dalve was heard by George Hall to say, when Captain Broadhead 
was getting some of the young burghers to go against the Dutch at Albany, 
" Shall we go and fight with our friends, and leave our enemies at home ?" For 
this seditious utterance Antonio was called to account. He said in his defence 
that he meant to be understood as saying ' ' Shall we go and fight our friends 
[the Dutch at Albany] who sold the savages powder and ball in the last Esopus 
war, and leave our enemies at home ? meaning the Esopus Indians." 

The Court made an effort to prevail on the burghers to disperse to their 
homes and lay down their arms. The latter replied that the English had twice 
threatened to burn the town, and requested that they be empowered by their 
magistrates to continue under arms; but the magistrates denied the same. 

The English Governor NicoUs sent up two of his privy counsellors to try 
the case, who, upon hearing the evidence, took four of the offending Dutch 
burgomasters to New York, there to receive from the Governor their final sen- 
tence. 



THE WAR WITH THE JERSEYMEN. 

FOR some years prior to 1700, and as late as half a century afterwards, the 
Minisink country was embroiled in a tedious conflict with their New 
Jersey neighbors, over the question of a boundary line between the colonies of 
New Jersey and New York. 

The misunderstanding grew out of the difficulty of determining what was 
the " north wardmost " branch of the Delawaie river. Both parties started 
from the same point on the Hudson river, in latitude 40 degrees. New York 
on the one hand contended for a line that would strike Big Minisink island, 
while New Jersey insisted the line should strike the Delaware river just below 
Cochecton, making a triangular gore several miles in width at its western ex- 
tremity. 

The matter was brought to the attention of the General Assembly of each 
colony, and considerable spirit was shown in its consideration. A committee 




VIEWS OF LAKE MOIIONK. ULSTER CO., X V. 



The War With the Jersey men. 33 

appointed by the New Yoi-k Assembly reported to the House, O('tol)er l'1>, 
1754, that they could not certainly discover what was the " Northwardniost 
branch of the Delaware Eiver; " that they find Minisink, and lands to the north- 
ward thereof, have been held by New York patents for nearly seventy years, 
which are bounded south by New Jersey; that the patents of New Jersey, for 
many years after the "fixation" of said boundary, did not extend northward 
above said bounds, nor did they extend jurisdiction al)ove these bounds 

That of late years large bodies of Jerseyites have with violence taken pos- 
session of lands above these bounds; and that New^ Jersey has erected the county 
of Sussex in part above these bounds. 

That New^ Jersey Justices have assumed authority over subjects liolding 
lands under and paying a submission to New York. 

Also, that New York Justices, officers, and even ministers of the Gospel in 
Orange county, have been seized and beaten, insulted, carried into New Jersey 
and helci to excessive bail or confined in prisons, and prosecuted by indictments. 

That people of New Jersey have from time to time taken possession of va- 
cant lands in Orange county, etc. 

New Jersey assumed and exercised the right to assess and collect taxes from 
people residing in the county of Orange, so that some chose to desert their pos- 
sessions and move further north. 

Thus while the respective Colonial Assemblies were adopting active pai-tisan 
measures in the controversy, it may be supposed that the people most directly 
interested, acting in the spirit of that semi-lawless age, did not always wait for 
the slow process of legislative enactment to settle their disputes, but took the 
details into their own hands for adjudication in their own w^ay. 

By way of more effectually opposing the incursions of the Jerseymen, the 
people of Orange converted their dwellings into places of defense, armed them- 
selves for sudden attack, and formed organizations for mutual aid and succor. 
Col. De Key, who was also a Justice of the Peace in and for Orange county, 
had settled upon lands within that county under patents granted by New^ York, 
v/here he had lived in peaceable possession for fifty years. Having been dis- 
turbed in his land>^, and threatened witli [)ersonal violence and ejectment, he 
proceeded to the residence of James Alexander, Esq., an East New Jersey \>\-(^- 
prietor, to lay the case before him, and if possible bring about some agreement 
between the contending parties until the line could be definitely settled. Col. 
De Key was told that if he would become a Jerseyman, and fight against the 
New York people, he should want neither commission nor money; that if Ik^ 
would do neither he w^ould be dispossessed of his plantations. Col. De Key 
refused to accept of the conditions, went home, and prepared for war. 

Subsequently, a number of armed men from East New Jersey came to the 
residence of De Key, who, seeing tluMU ap])roach, shut himself up in the house. 
They drew up in battle array, cocked their guns, and presenting them towards 
the window where De Key stood, assured him they would shoot him through 
the heart; that they would starve him out, and burn the house over his head; 



34 Legends of the ShcrLoangunk. 

that if a man, woman, or child, attempted to escape, he would he shot down; 
that they had the strength to take all Goshen, and would do it in time. They 
theieupon withdrew without further violence, one of them saying — " Take care 
of yourself, for we will have you yet !" 

Some of the patentees becoming disheartened, sold out to others at great 
sacrifice and removed, which served to weaken the party in possessioi 

Among the pioneers of Orange county was one Hai-manus A^an Inwegen, 
a bold, strong and i-esolute man, who had married into the Swartwout family, 
who were among the patentees of the disputed territory. Van Inwegen was 
by nature and habit well fitted for the times in which he hved, and was admir- 
ably qualified for a leader in enterprises that required daring and resolution. 
The better to identify his interests with the cause of the New York patentees, 
he was given some of the lands under controversy; the result was he soon as- 
sumed the character of a fearless and able partisan. 

One day while Van Inwegen was absent from home, some Indians came 
and commenced abusing his family. He was immediately sent for. When the 
Indians saw him coming they cocked their guns, and aimed them at his breast. 
He rushed in among them, tumbled one redskin in one direction, and sent an- 
other flying heels over head in another direction; in short, he handled his un- 
welcome guests so roughly that they fled from the house. 

At another time, while Van Inwegen was raking grain in his field, a New 
Jersey constable and three or four assistants came to arrest him, and to take 
possession of his grain. Not submitting quietly to the process of arrest and the 
confiscation of his property, the constable wounded him with his sword. Van 
Inwegen thereupon broke the rake in pieces over the officer's head with such 
effect that all attempts at arrest were abandoned. 

One Major Swartwout resided on the disputed lands. The New Jersey 
claimants were for a long time watching for an opportunity to enter his house 
and get possession before he could get help from his neighbors. The Major 
kept several loaded guns in the house, and employed an additional number of 
men about the premises, all of whom were proficient in the use of fire-arms. 
The Major's house thus became a fortified post, with an armament not to be 
despised. 

Major Swartwout was a large, portly man, possessed of a fine military 
bearing; and, when arrayed in the rich and gaudy equipments of war, appeared 
to a good advantage on parade. Many a time has the drill-ground at Goshen 
resounded to his word of command. 

Notwithstanding all tho precautionary measures of the Major, some Jersey - 
men effected an entrance into his abode during his temporary absence in 1730, 
drove out his family, removed his goods, and assumed possession of the prem- 
ises. His wife ^vas confined to her bed at the time by the birth of a child, and 
the removal was the occasion of her death. 

Measures were at once determined on to reinstate the Major in his domicile. 
Some reinforcements having arrived f roin Goshen, his party ambushed on a hill 



The War M'itk the Jcrseynic7i. 35 

ill a piece of woods near the Major's home. It was arranged that Peter Gui- 
niaer should go to the house, and at a convenient opportunity enter and ascertain 
the situation of affairs. If he judged the circumstances favorable for an at- 
tempt at recapture, Peter was to go into the orchaid and throw up an apple as 
a signal. The party on the hill soon had the satisfaction of seeing Peter make 
the signal agreed upon. They rushed out of the woods and into the house with 
such impetuosity as to overpower all opposition. The usurpers were expelled, 
and the Major reinstated in his possessions. 

The people of Orange county employed a spy to act in their interest, who 
was to circulate among the Jersey claimants, acquaint himself with their plans, 
and send back reports of their proceedings. The spy soon sent them word that 
on a certain day the Jerseymen intended to raid the disputed territory with a 
strong party, with the view of dispossessing the occupants generally. 

The day came at last; and with it came the sturdy yeomanry of Orange 
county — fathers, brothers, sons, aU — to the home of Hermanus Van Inwegen, 
armed, equipped, and caparisoned for war. The preparations were barely com- 
pleted when the van of the Jersey company came in sight. 

Major Swartwout gallantly led his little army out into the road, and formed 
the men in line of battle. 

Jacob Cuddeback said to Van Inwegen, *' We are old men; our hves are of 
less consequence than those of our younger companions; let us take our places 
in the front of the line." This act of self-sacrifice was immediately carried into 
execution; even the younger men evincing no dissatisfaction at the wise ar- 
rangement. The line was formed in double column, with the two old men in 
front as a cover to those in rear, and the Major himself at the head of his men: 
with this disposition of the force, they calmly awaited the onset with breath- 
less interest. 

The Jerseymen came within gunshot and halted. Such a military array 
as that ^vlth which they were now confronted— at once so unexpected and so 
formidable— served to weaken the ardor even of Jerseymen bent on conquest. 
Another incident, coming also unawares, contributed to strike dismay stiU moro 
deeply into the stern hearts of the invaders. 

Gerardus Swart wout, a young son of the Major, who was in the line be- 
hind the old men, called out to his father in a voice loud enough to be heard by 
the invading party:— 

" Is this all in fun, Father, or in sober earnest; are we to shoot to kill, Or 
only aim to hit them in their legs ?" 

"Shoot to kill," shouted the Major in tones of thunder— " pepper eveiy 
rascal of them ! Down with the ruthless invaders of our soil !" 

This was more than the Jerseymen could stand. Their colunm began to 
waver, when Van Inwegen called out to the Major to give the order to open the 
battle. 

"Ready! take aim ! fire!" roared the Major. The two old men in front 
raised their weapons at the word of conmiand, but before they could pull trig- 



36 Legends of tJic Shawangiiiik. 

ger the Jerseymen were in full retreat for the woods. Some stray shots were 
sent after them by some of the young men in the rear of the line of battle, with 
no effect. With this the military operations of the day concluded. 

Some time after this the Jerseymen made another effort to capture the 
Major and Captain Johannes Westbrook. They chose the Sabbath as the time 
when, and the door of the church as the place where, they would be the most 
certain of taking their prey. Somewhere between the years 1764 and 1767 one 
Sabbath morning, a strong party surrounded the church armed with clubs. 
The Major and Captain Westbrook were among the congregation of worship- 
pers. After the services were concluded and the people were coming out of the 
church, both men were captured and made prisoners, but not until after a 
long, rough-and-tumble struggle. The Major, being reckoned the more danger- 
ous of the two, was taken and confined for a while in a Jersey prison. 



THE MASTODON. 



THE Shawangunk region, even were it wanting in any other recommenda- 
tion to historic mention, is remarkable as having been the home of the 
Mastodon. Almost under the shadow of the rock-ribbed ascents, deep in the 
peat and marl of the adjacent valleys, several skeletons of these huge mon- 
sters have been exhumed, some of them the largest and most complete speci- 
mens that have come to the sight of man. In a tamarack swamp near Mont- 
gomery, in 1845, a gigantic and perfect skeleton was found in a peat bog with 
marl beneath, where it stood in an erect position, as if the animal lost its life 
in search of food by getting mired. In the place where its stomach and intes- 
tines lay was fomid a large mass of fragments of twigs and grass, hardly fossi- 
Hzed at all — the remains, doubtless, of the undigested dinner of the monster. 
This skeleton was eleven feet high and upwards of twenty feet long, and 
weighed 2000 pounds. It is now in a museum in Boston. Another skeleton, 
scarcely less remarkable for its size and completeness, was dug up in the year 
1872 in the town of Mount Hope. This weighed 1700 pounds, and is now on 
exhibition in New Haven, Conn. No less than nine skeletons, more or less en- 
tire, have been exhumed within the limits of Orange county. 

The era and haunts of this monster mammalia furnish abundant material for 
consideration, and is of interest both as attracting the superficial notice of the 
tourist and eliciting the more profound speculations of the geologist. Whether 
we contemplate the antiquity of his remains entombed for unknown ages in the 
peat and marl of a swami)^preserved by the antiseptic property of the medium 
that caused his death; or whether we think of his lordly mastery over the otlier 
beasts of his time, of the majesty of his tread over valley and mountain, of his 



The Mastodon. 37 

anger when excited to fury, uttering his wrath in thunder tones -there is that 
in the subject which clothes the locaUty in a new and interesting hght." 

In the north part of a swamp near Crawford's, Orange county, some years 
since, a mastodon skeleton was found. A writer says of it: "This skeleton 
I examined very minutely, and found that the carcass had been dei^osited whole, 
but that the jaw-bones, two of the ribs, and a tliigh-bone had been broken by 
some violent force while the flesh yet remained on the bones. Two other parts 
of skeletons Avere found, one at Ward's bridge, the other at Masten's meadow, 
in Shawangunk. In both instances the carcasses had been torn asunder, and 
the bones had been deposited with the flesh on, and some of the l)ones were 
fractured. That the bones were deposited with the flesh appears from the fact 
that they were found attached to each other, and evidently belonged to only 
one part of the carcass, and no other bones could be found near the spot. 
Great violence would be necessary to l)reak the bones of such large animals; in 
the ordinary course of things no force adequate to that effect would be exerted. 
I think it fair reasoning, that, at the deluge, they were brought by the westerly 
currents to the place where they were found; that the carcasses were brought 
in the first violent surges, and bruised and torn asunder by the tremendous 
cataracts, created when the cm-rents crossed the high mountains and ridges, 
and fell into the deep valleys between the Shawangunk mountain and the level 
countries adjacent." 

At what age in the world's history the mastodon Uved, how and when he 
died, there is no Avell-developed theory. 

Is the death and utter annihilation of the race attributable to an over- 
whelming flood which submerged the earth and swept down those animals as 
they peacefully and unsuspiciously wandered ? 

Was it some unusual storm, black with fury, terrible as a tornado, and 
death-deahng as a sirocco, which swept the wide borders of the Shawangunk, 
and in one wrathful, destroying stream swept the Living mastodon into utter 
oblivion ? 

Was it the common fate of nations, the destiny of every created race of 
animals, that by the physical law of their natures, the race started into being, 
grew up to physical perfection, fulfilled the pui-pose of their creation, and be- 
came extinct ? 

Was it some malignant distemper, fatal as the murrain of Egypt and wide- 
spread as the earth itself, which attacked the herd and laid the giants low ? 
Or was it rather individual accident, numerous as the race, befaUing each one, 
and which,* amidst the throes and toils of extrication, caused them to sink 
deeper and deeper still in the soft and miry beds where we find their bones re- 
l)osing ? 

When did these animals live and when did they perish, are questions no 
more easy of solution. Were they pre-Adamites, and did they graze upon the 

* Eajrer. 



38 Legends of the Shawangunk. 

meadows and slopes of Shawangunk in the sunHght of that early period, ere 
man had been created? Or were they ante-diluvian, and carried to a common 
grave by the deluge of the Scriptures ? Or were they post-diluvian only, and, 
until a very recent period, wandered over these hills and browsed in these val- 
leys? 

A formidable objection to these animals having hved within a few hundred 
years is the difficulty of so enormous a creature obtaining sustenance for him- 
self through our winters. It would seem that the mastodon hved in a pala^on- 
tological period more remote, when the climate was warmer, since the allied 
huge animals do Hve in warmer latitudes. Perhaps it was the change of cli- 
mate that destroyed the mastodon. 

Geologists are of opinion that the mastodon flourished about the middle of 
the tertiary period. If so, these creatures were here ages before man was 
created. The period of their extinction is thought to be more doubtful, probably 
just before the establishing of the first human pair in the Garden of Elden. 

The mastodon belongs to the graminivorous class of quadrupeds. Had he 
belonged to the carnivorous race, subsisting on flesh, he would have been the 
most destructive butcher of which wo could possibly conceive 

" OtisviUe, Otisville!'' shouts the trainman from a set of stentorian lungs, 
opening the door of the Erie Railway passenger coach as the train slows up at 
a little station high up the slope of the Shawangunk, at the eastern portal of 
the "Pass of the Mountains.' We alighted on the platform, and the train 
proceeded on its way through the deep cleft in the mountain, and the rum- 
bling was lost in the distance as it crept along the dizzy heights of the western 
slope. 

" Will you please point the way to the swamp where the Mount Hope 
mastodon was found ? " we said to the first man we met, who happened to be 
the village post-master 

" Certainly; come with me. I am going that way and will show you the 
place." 

Following his directions, after a walk of about a mile over a rough country 
road, we came to the place indicated. The swamp has no distinguishing fea- 
tures, and covers a tract of some half-dozen acres. The highway winds to one 
side of it, while a side-hiU pastm^e borders the other. The mastodon's remains 
were found near the lower end, only a few feet from solid ground. The crea- 
ture had evidently ventured into the swamp in search of food, got mired in the 
peat and marl, and perished there — the skeleton being preserved from decay by 
the antiseptic properties of those substances that were instrumental in causing 
its death. 

There is an excavation some ten or more yards in diameter where the bones 
were exhumed, which is now fiUed with water. The circumstances under which 
the ]\Iount Hope fossil was found are these: 

Some years ago a family by the name of Mitchel, residing in New York 
city, purchased a farm in the vicinity of Otisville. The land was none of the 



The JMastodou. 



39 



best; but wiiih commeiidcable enterprise they iinniediately set aljout improving 
the property. Soon a large and commodious brick house was built; fences and 
outbuildings repaired; and the muck and marl from the swamp a few rods 
from the house were dra\vn oat and spread upon the upland. 

The place for the excavation was chosen solely on the ground of conven- 
ience in getting the product to the upland; by a fortunate coincidence that was 
the place where the creature went into the swamp and perished. One day 
while the men were at work they came upon a bone. Its gi-eat size astonished 
them and they could not divine what sort of animal it had belonged to. Soon 
after they came upon more bones, sunilar in form to the bones of animals with 
which they were familiar, only they were of mammoth size. At last they came 
to the bones of the pelvis, which were of such huge dimensions that the whole 
neighborhood flocked to behold the curiosity. 

The ^litchels kept at the work of digging, but they now had a doul)le \)\\v- 
pose in view. At first the parts of the skeleton were thrown carelessly into a 
heap, and left there unprotected. Xow, as fast as found, they were carefully 
guarded, and stored away under lock and key. 

As the Avork proceeded the water became troublesome. The owner of the 
farm, believing he had found a prize, arranged to have the water pumped out 
while the search continued. The result of their labors was the exhuming of 
one of the most perfect fossil remains of the extinct mastodon that has ever 
been found, and which weighed about seventeen hundred pounds: the skeleton 
when put together stood over ten feet in height, and nearly fifteen in lengi:h. 
Some minor parts were missing, either not having been exhumed by reason of 
the difficulty experienced in digging, or having been carried away as souvenirs 
by curious visitors before their value was known 

News of the finding of this valuable geological specimen spread through the 
country. Inquiries poured in by every mail, and some of the leading colleges 
took measures to secure it for their respective cabinets. Negotiations with the 
coUege authorities reached the point which made it certain that either Yale or 
Princeton would carry off the prize; and the question which of the two should 
get it would depend on whether a Yale or a Princeton representative arrived 
first on the ground. 

Prof. Waterhouse Hawkins, of Princeton college, took passage on a train 
that was scheduled to stop at Otisville, the nearest station on the Erie railroad. 
Prof. 0. C. Marsh, of Yale college, adoi)ted, as he said, his usual custom, and 
took the first and sAAiftest train that started in the direction he wanted to go, 
and did not trouble himself to inquire whether it stopped at Otisville or not. 
The latter found means to induce the conductor of the train to slow up at a 
point nearest the Mitchell farm; and when Prof. Hawkins arrived by the ac- 
connnodation train some hours later, the writings were all drawn in favor of 
Yale, and Prof. Marsh had made all sure by a payment on the same. And 
that is wliy the ]\Iount Hope mastodon to-day graces the Yale museum insteail 
of the college cabinet at Princeton. 



40 Legends of the Skawangiuik. 

A resident of Otisville, who was personally acquainted with the conductor 
of the train on which the Yale professor took passage, said to him a few days 
afterwards: — '' You had a distinguished passenger on board of your train the 
other day, I hear." 

"Not that I know of," said the conductor. 

"Didn't you slow up your train to let a gentleman off ?"- mentioning 
the day. 

"Yes, I did." 

" That passenger was Prof. Marsh, of Yale college. Now tell me how you 
came to accommodate him so far as to let him get off between stations." 

"Well, I'll tell you how that came about," replied the railway official, 
knocking the ashes from his Havana, and assuming an air of gravity; " you 
see, that fellow had some deuced good cigars with him!" 

Dr. Theo. Writer, of Otisville, was present when the Professor was pack- 
ing the mastodon in boxes. The Doctor had in his possession the skull of a 
weasel; and knowing that Prof. Marsh was an authority on skeletons, took it 
down to show him. " Here, Professor," said the Doctor, " here is a skull not 
quite so large as the one you are packing in that box, but if you will accept it 
with my compliments, you are welcome to it." 

The Professor looked at it and instantly exclaimed, "That is a weasel's 
skull." And then he went on to give some facts in natural history relating to 
those mischievous little animals. He thanked Dr. Writer for the skull, — no 
gift could have pleased him better. Doubtless that weasel's skull occupies a 
niche in the Yale college museum to this day 



CATHERINE DU BOIS. 
A HEROINE OF ANCIENT WILDWYCK. 

IT was early in the month of June — that season of the year in which nature as- 
sumes her holiday garb, ere the sun has parched vegetation or the heat be- 
come unbearable— that the following incidents are said to have transpired. The 
wheat-fields of ancient Wildwyck were undulating gracefully before the sum- 
mer breeze; the rustling blades of corn gave promise of a rich and abundant har- 
vest, and the forests were gorgeous with the blossoming laurel and May-apple. 
The high stockade fence, the block-houses and bastions, and log cabins 
pierced with port-holes, seemed out of place in such a scene of pastoral beauty 
and repose. But the surrounding wilderness, melodious with wild-bird song, 
and fragrant with the perfume of wild flowers, Nvas the covert of beasts of prey 
and lurking savages; hence the utmost circumspection was necessary to protect 
themselves against surprise. A guard was always stationed at the fort, and 



CatJicriuc DuBois. \\ 

Avlieii the inhabitants went to labor in the fields they did so with their arms 
close at hand. 

It was on the morning of tlie memorable 7th day of June that Lewis Du 
Bois arose and went about his morning duties. Returning to his log cal)in 
for breakfast at the usual time, and the meal not being ready, acting under the 
impulse of the moment, he gave vent to his feelings in some unpleasant words. 
The gentle Catherine, who had left her beloved home in the Fatherland, where 
she possessed every comfort, choosing to follow the fortune of Lewis in a new 
and savage country, under all the privations of a backwoods life, — Catherine 
looked at her husband in surprise at his unwonted words; a tear started to 
trickle down the cheek of the young wife, as she seemed on the point of giving 
way to a burst of sobs, but she suddenly checked herself, and assuming the 
dignity of injured innocence, curtly answered him. In short this couple, on 
this eventful day, had their first serious misunderstanding. 

The breakfast was over at last. Unlike all other meals no brisk conver- 
sation was kept up. In fact this particular breakfast was })artaken of in 
silence, and at its close Lewis arose to go. It was his turn to labor in the field; 
his work lay some distance from home, and he was to take his noonday repast 
with him. His wife had prepared a choice venison steak, some fresh fish from 
the creek, a cake of the sweetest corn bread, and butter made l)y her own 
skilled hands; these she now handed him, packed carefully away in a neat little 
basket fashioned of white birch-bark. This she did with an averted glance, 
without proffering the accustomed good-bye. 

Lewis was deeply paiiied at this: he could but think he was to blame for it 
all. Still his pride stood in the way of an acknowledgement on his pait. Once 
on the tlu^eshold he was tem[)ted to return and plead forgiveness; as he |)assed 
the little window he saw Catherine seated at the puncheon table, with her face 
buried in hei- hands. He would have gone back, but heaiing his name called 
l>y other members of the working party who were awaiting him, he turned to 
accompany them. 

During the morning Lewis felt ill at ease. His companions noted his taci- 
turnity and vainly tried to elicit the cause. The day dragged wearily by; he 
longed for the hour to come when he could hasten to her side and plead for- 
giveness. What if something should occur, and he be not permitted to see her 
again! The thought startled him like a presentiment. 

Notwithstanding a guard had been left at Wildwyck, so long a time ha<l 
transpired since any act of atrocity had been committed, that those ordinary 
measures of safety that prudence would have dictated were often disregarded. 
On this particular morning a number of savages were noticed about the village, 
going from house to house ostensil)ly to dispose of some maize and a few beans. 
They had entered by all of the gates, coming in singly, or by twos and threes; 
and the people were unsuspectful that a large body of savages were in their 
very midst, ready at the favorable moment to enter upon the work of merciless 
slaughter and jiillage. 



42 Legends of the Shawangiink. 

Presently some people on horseback were seen approaching from the direc- 
tion of the new village. They were enveloped in a clond of dust, and were 
evidently under great excitement. As they drew nearer the people collected 
to learn the cause of alarm. 

"Indians!" shouted the horsemen. "The Indians have burnt the new 
village; to arms ! to arms !" 

Almost instantly the war-whoop sounded, and it seemed as if Indians rose 
up in the fated village of Wildwyck by magic, so rapidly did they pour out of 
the log cabins and places of hiding. The work of shooting, tomahawking and 
scalping began. The screams of affrighted women and children, the shouts of 
the men, the groans of the dying, were soon mingled with the roaring of the 
flames and the dreadful sounds of carnage. 

At the time of the attack Lewis was some miles away. The alarm guns 
were fired — the signal for every man to return to the fort. He knew some sud- 
den and appalling danger was impending over the settlement. Then innnedi- 
ately followed the rattle of musketry. The fort was attacked. He saw the 
smoke curHng up in the summer sky — the smoke of burning dwellings, and 
what if his own house was among those marked for destruction I Solicitude 
lent speed to his steps. On every liand settlers were rushing in the direction of 
the fort, the deepest anxiety depicted on every countenance, for all, like Lewis, 
had dear ones in peril. 

As Lewis drew nearer the stockade he could distinguish the exultant yells 
of the savages — he knew the guard had been overpowered. The crackling of 
the flames was distinctly discernible, and the smoke and embers went up from 
new points as the houses were successively fired. Now he heard the piercing 
shriek of a female and again the wail of a child. Oh, that he had wings to fly 
to the rescue! 

Ere he came up, breathless, with a score or more of his companions, the 
strife had ceased. The Indians had beheld the reinforcement coming; and se- 
curing such of the booty as they could carry away, together with a number of 
prisoners, they had made good their retreat. Lewis, |)ale and anxious, rushed 
in through the gate of the fort. On every side he beheld evidences of slaughter 
and destruction. Dwellings in flames; bodies lying about the streets, scalped 
and otherwise mutilated; friends gcithered about the corpses of companions; 
others running franticaUy about inquiring for missing relatives, while all 
seemed overwhelmed with grief and terror. 

With forebodings Lewis ran to the spot where his cabin stood, where he 
had the last glimpse of his wife at the homely l)reakfast table a few hours be- 
fore, only to find his home a mass of ruins. He called loudly her name. 1 >ut no 
response came. Was she taken prisoner or had she shared in the fate of many 
others, who met death by the flames that devoured their homes ? AU were too 
much absorbed in their own grief to heed his eager inquiries, or could not give 
him the desired information. 

The dead had l)een collected, such as had not been consumed in the burning 



Catherine DiiBois. 43 

dwellings. Ten men, one woman ami tln-ee cliildren were aniong the victims. 
Bleeding, mntilated by the mnrderous tomahawk, the bodies were laid side by 
side, while sounds of bitter grief were uttered by bursting hearts. Not a soul 
among the living, gathered about the remains of the fallen, but had its store of 
grief. Such a feeUng of desolation, dread, sorrow mingled with regret, as filled 
the hearts of the survivors of the massacre of Wildwyck, when they realized the 
loss of friends and homes — such anguish and utter hopelessness, can oidy be 
realized by those who have passed through the ordeal. 

Among those most deeply stricken was Lewis DuBois. His house and nil 
his earthly goods were in ashes; his wife, he at last learned, had been carried 
off a i)risoner with other females and some children; and though he could not 
mourn her as dead, yet she might be reserved for a worse fate. It was not the 
least i)oignant part of his regret that the last words spoken to her— the last he 
might ever be permitted to speat^— were those of anger; and that his last re- 
membrance of her was her form seated at the little table sobbing at his harsh 
words. 

But those border men were not the ones to waste precious moments in out- 
ward exhibitions of grief when duty called to act. To prepare the dead for 
burial, and, if possible, to rescue the prisoners, were measures immediately re- 
solved upon. Tlie former was a sad duty, the latter a most dangerous task. 
All fear was banished from those whose wives and children were in the hands 
of savages; they would dare aii\i;hing that promised a rescue. While a few 
were left in charge of the fort, a band of thirty resolute men were assembled 
and sent in pursuit of the savages. With heavy hearts and anxious forebod- 
ings the remnant of the village saw this little l)and of heroes depart on tlieir 
errand of difficulty and danger, following them with tearful and prayerful anx- 
iety until they disappeared in the adjacent forest, when they betook themselves 
to the sad rites of the sepulture of their slain comrades. 

We will next follow the adventures of the weeping captives, torn from 
their homes by a band of whooping savages, red v/ith the blood of their slaugh- 
tered relatives. For the first few miles the demeanor of their savage captors 
was hai"sh and violent. They would menace them with the tomahawk by way 
of urging them to a more rapid movement. The Indians evidently feared pur- 
suit, and they were anxious to put as many miles betAveen tliem and their pos- 
sible pursuers as they could. Once out of reacli of immediate danger tlie party 
slackened their pace, and conducted the retreat more leisurely. Just before 
nightfall one of the prisoners gave out; she was tomahawked and scali)ed, and 
left where she fell. At last a halt was ordered, and the party prepared to 
bivouac for the niglit. 

Fires were liglited, and the savages arranged tliemselves for tlie evening 
meal. The prisoners Avere permitted to remain in company, a little apart from 
the savages, with a single sentinel to keep watch over them. They were not a 
little alarmed at the noise made by the wild animals in the woods around them, 
but were spared the knowledge at the time that those sounds were made by 



44 Legends of the Shawangunk. 

beasts of prey, as they fought and feasted on the body of their lamented sister, 
tomahawked that afternoon. 

They were here destined to have tlie remembrance of their misfortunes 
awakened anew, as the savages displayed the booty they had carried off from 
the fort. Mrs. B. beheld a scarlet cloak that her little boy wore when he was 
brained by a savage— his scream of terror was still ringing in her ears. Mrs. 
G. recognized a coat as belonging to her husband, who was sliot down and 
scalped before her eyes. Catherine DuBois beheld all this with feelings of 
mingled emotion. As far as she knew^ her husband was alive. And as the oc- 
currences of the day came up before her she thought was she not a little at 
fault for the misunderstanding of the morning ? Might she not have been a 
little more patient, and not have cast back such a retort ? It was their first 
quarrel, and now they might never meet again. Ah, those words ! would they 
had remained unspoken ! 

The next morning the party again took up tlie line of march, following the 
alluvial bottoms along the banks of a stream. Towards noon a messenger ar- 
rived, and after a hurried consultation the savages divided into two parties, the 
larger one under the leadership of a hideously painted savage, while the smaller 
kept to the original course, which continued in charge of the prisoners. 

Towards the close of the day a halt was called. The captives had now 
traversed the whole distance between the present city of Kingston and the head 
waters of the Shawangunk kill. The savages, probably deeming themselves 
safe from pursuit, had for some time omitted the precautions they observed 
early in their flight, but little heed being paid to their captives other than keep- 
ing them within view. 

Catherine and her companions now beheld some movements of the Indians 
that concerned them greatly. Some of their captors had been gathering fagots 
and piling them into heaps — equal in number to the prisoners—while others 
were driving sharpened stakes into the ground near the piles of sticks. Under 
other circumstances these proceedings would have filled them with consterna- 
tion; but these heroic wojnen actually looked upon these preparations for their 
own torture with a degree of satisfaction, as they believed they beheld evidence 
of a speedy deliverance from their earthly troubles. 

The band of Christian women bowed their lieads and prayed to the Giver 
of all Good, that He would, in His infinite mercy, if consistent with His will, 
restore them to their homes and families; or if it should be theirs to suffer at 
the stake, that He would impart strength for the terrible ordeal that they be- 
held awaiting them. Then their pent-up feelings broke forth in song; and 
wilh swelling hearts, yet with voices unbroken, those captives sang Marot's 
beautiful French hynm, of which the following is a part: 

By Babel's stream the captives sate 
And wept for Zion's hapless fate; 
Useless their har{)s on willows hung, 
While foes required a sacred song. 



Greycoiirt Inii. 45 

AVliilc tiiiis 11i«3' siini? tlio nioiirners viewed 
Tlii'ir foes by Cyrus's ai-m subdued, 
And saw his glory rise, who spread 
Their streets and fields with hosts of dead. 

Tliis was the first Christian song heard on the banks of tlie Shawangunk 
kill. Ti-adition says the savages were charmed with the music, and delayed 
the execution of the singers while they listened. Was the last stanza given 
above prophetic of what was then and there to take place \ In answer to tlieir 
prayers, God had sent them deHverance. A panic seized the red inon, and 
they fled in dismay for the mountains. The captives, not knowing the cause 
of alarm, ran after them; hut they presently heard the sound of well-known 
voices calling them back. The next moment they were clasped in the arms of 
tlieir husbands and brothers. 

The day was too far spent to start on the return journey, so they composed 
themselves for the night, with the dried leaves of the preceding autunm for 
couches, and the overhanging l)ranches for shelter. The fires were lighted of 
the fagots gathered by the Indians, though, providentially, not for the original 
purpose of torture, but for warmth and comfort. 

The night was sleepless. Each recounted to the others matters of interest 
relating to the death of friends at the village, and incidents of the captivity and 
pursuit. The sympathy of all was drawn out towards one of tlie relieving 
party, who, the day previous, had come upon the remains of his wife in the 
woods. It was she who had been tomahawked and scalped, not having the 
streng-th to keep up with the other prisoners; a pack of Avolves had devoured 
most of the flesh, the only means of identification being her dress. The jour- 
ney home was begun next morning, where a warm welcome awaited them. 



GREYCOURT INN. 



PASSENGEES by the Erie railway, as the trahi slows up at an unassuming 
station in southern Orange, will hear the stentorian voice of the train- 
man call out "Greycourt.'' This ai)pellation, so rythmical, and made up of 
such a strange combination, at once wins the attention of the tourist; and he 
casts about him for some romantic incident that may have given rise to the 
name. He moves up to the nearest bystander, who appears to l)e a resi<lent, 
and blandly incpiires what this uncanny title means, and is answered in the 
prevalent dialect, " Dun-no." A second venture is met with—" Can't tell, boss- 
give us an easier one!" The name cannot l)e of Indian origin, nor does it savor 
of having been handed down from the broad-breeched Dutch ancestral popula- 
tion of the valley; yet it has an historical significance if tradition is to be be- 
lieved. 



46 Legends of the Shaivangunk. 

It Avas at a time when thousands of oppressed subjects, fleeing from the in- 
tolerance and tyranny of old Europe, first sought freedom and happiness in the 
new land beyond the seas— the America of the west. William Bull, an Irish- 
man, with no fortune but youth and a good constitution, imbibing the prevalent 
feeling among all classes, took passage in an English packet bound for New 
York. He counted his money^ — five guineas— to the skipper of the packet, and 
was told the amount would pay for his passage. Arrived in port he tendered 
his five guineas, and was gruffly told it was not enough. " But it's all I've got, " 
said the Irishman. "Then you must be sold to pay the balance of your pas- 
sage money," said the captain. All expostulation was vain; and the skipper 
affected to have no recollection of a previous understanding. William Bull saw 
he was in the captain's power: the laws of England made it obligatory on his 
part to render an equivalent in hard labor for the balance claimed, and he had 
no friend to take up his cause against the purj^ose of the over- reaching captain. 

" Then I'll go back in the ship," said the outraged Irishman; " if I've got 
to be a slave, I'll be one in my own land I" 

It so occurred that Daniel Cromline, who resided on the Wawayanda pat- 
ent, was then in the port at which the packet had arrived. The advent of a 
ship in port in those days was an occasion of importance, and always drew a 
crowd of interested persons and curiosity seekers, and Cromline was among the 
number attracted thither by the novelty. The story of the Irish passenger had 
got abroad, and his case had excited considerable sympathy, especially as the 
avarice and tyranny of sea-captains was a trait by no means rare. Cromline, 
being in want of a " hand " at his new settlement, forthwith asked to be j)re- 
sented to the distressed passenger. The result of the interview was that Crom- 
line advanced an amount covering the deficit in Bull's passage money, and took 
the grateful Irishman home with him, 

William Bull proved to be a great accession to the working force of the new 
settlement in the wilderness. He was strong and willing, and of a mild and 
hopeful disposition. He was skillful in the use of tools, and fertile in expedi- 
ents — qualities that were especially valuable where tools were scarce and the 
facilities limited; and where, if a much-needed article was obtained, it had to be 
ordered from Holland, or England, and a year was required to get it. 

Daniel Cromline set to work to construct a log mansion that should be far 
superior to any house for miles around. As an innovation in the building art, 
the pmicheon was discarded, and real boards, sawed by whips in a saw-pit, en- 
tered into the construction of the floors and doors, and were held in place with 
wooden pins. The prime workman and chief architect was William Bull, but 
for whose ingenuity and physical strength the edifice would have been lacking 
in many of its sterling excellencies. 

Though William Bull had emigrated thousands of miles from the scenes of 
his youth, and had apparently buried himself in the heart of a vast wilderness, 
it must not be supposed that he had turned savage like the wild beasts and In- 
dians by whom he was sui-rounded. His young and susceptible heart began to 



Grcvcourf Inn. 47 

feel the promptings of the tender sentiment; and fortunately for him, Provi- 
dence had in-ovided a trim and comely lass who was to reciprocate his passion. 

The yontliful and imaginative reader has doubtless already pictured the long 
and sentimental walks of these lovers under the sombre shadows of the forest 
by moonlight; or the more cosy and confidential talks seated on the slab bench 
before the roaring fire-place after the old folks had retired, while the wolves 
howled witliout, and the })antlier screamed from the lonely glen; and has fan- 
cied the friends of the lady at first objecting to the match, but finally, one and 
all, brought over in favor of the Irishman. And so the story would read, if it 
were the work of fiction; but the stern logic of facts compels the statement 
that there were no friends to conciliate, and no old folks to propitiate, for the 
bride was as friendless and portionless as the groom himself. 

Like her future liege lord, Sarah Wells, by the stern and exacting laws of 
the period, had been reduced to involuntary servitude to a landed proprietor on 
Long Island. By the \'icissitudes of fortune her master had lost his property, 
and Sarah had made her way by the assistance of some friendly Indians to the 
neighborhood of Goshen. Here her dusky friends had l)uilt her a log hut, and 
sui)plied her for a time \\A\X\ venison, until chance threw her in the way of 
AVilliam Bull. 

The marriage ceremony took place in the Cromline log palace, a local mag- 
istrate officiating. Bull was an Episcopalian; his creed required the publication 
of the bans three times, but this formulary was looked upon \\ith disfavor, in- 
asnuich as its observance would defer the wedding-day. The magistrate was 
equal to the emergency— he could both satisfy the scruples of WiUiam and 
promptly tie the nuptial knot at the same time. 

So the magistrate went to the rear door of the Cromline mansion and pro- 
claimed aloud to the trees of the forest — '' If anyone has any objection to the 
marriage of William Bull and Sarah Wells, let him now make it known, or 
forever keep silent;" and having so proclaimed, shut the door and passed to 
the front of the house. This he did three times. The forest trees offering no 
objection, he commanded the high contracting parties to stand up before him; 
and then and there was performed the first wedding ceremony, according to 
the usages of civilized society, in the town of Goshen. 

The wedding-feast at the Crondine cabin absorbed the talk for weeks for 
the entire settlement; a slab table, made like a bench, without a spread of any 
kind, was loaded down with refreshments. These were of a plain but substan- 
tial soi-t. There was the toothsome and tender venison done up in pot-roasts 
and tempting steaks; there was the succulent and juicy wild-turkey, hot and 
steaming, and served up in a dish of its o^^^l gravy; there was tlie rich and 
tempting corn, grown in the natural meadows on the ''drowned lands," and 
made into pone, which served in lieu of wedding-cake, while metheglin was the 
principal beverage that washed thenl down. The i)lates on which the repast 
was served varied in size and jjattern, some being of pcAvter, but more of wood; 
their knives were mainly butcher knives, while their forks were sharpened 



^8 Legends of the Shaivangitnk. 

sticks. A dance closed the festivities, and all made merry to the sound of the 
fiddle. All the hunters and frontiersmen for miles around were required to 
make up the party. The men in deerskin breeches and rakish coon-skin caps, 
and the backwoods belles in garb scarcely less primitive, showed to good ad- 
vantage as jigs, four-hand reels and double-shuffles were executed in true fron- 
tier style— for your sedate and spiritless modern cotillion was to them a thing 
unknown. The old log house still stands, almost within sound of the stir and 
bustle of Goshen, where this couple first set up housekeeping, and their nu- 
merous descendants to-day are among the most prosperous and influential of the 
valley. The annual gathering of the Bull family is now a firmly established 
institution. 

The Cromline log mansion, after this event, speedily acquired a celebrity 
in border parlance. It was located on the route leading from New Windsor to 
New Jersey; its owner, with an eye to the main chance, entertained travelers 
between those points, and it soon grew to a popular inn, and a place of resort 
for all classes. As was meet for all inns of standing and pretension, it was in 
due time graced with a sign, in front. This was of an oval shape, painted and 
decorated on either side, and suspended by hinges from a cross-piece on the top 
of a pole some twenty feet high that stood apart from the building. On one 
side of this sign, out of customary deference to the King— for this was before 
the Revolution — was painted the arms of royalty; on the other, in gaudy colors, 
was represented a goose, because of the proximity of Goose Pond swamp. 
That old house was privileged to behold many a jovial revel, of a different sort 
from the wedding-feast of Mr. and Mrs. William Bull. During the wild days 
of Indian warfare many a redskin passed beneath the sign of the Old Goose 
for his drink of fire-water. And during the trying times of the Revolutionary 
struggle, it was the resort of Whigs, Tories, Cowboys, and marauders of every 
sort, who needed the stimulus of brandy to nerve them to their work. That 
house stood for 11 6 years; when decay and the march of improvement con- 
signed it, notwithstanding all its associations, to the doom of demolition. 

During the War of Independence, the sign with its opprobrious English coat- 
of-arms,* came to be the butt of endless jokes and gibes. But the landlord did 
not choose to abate the nuisance The painting finally became weather-beaten; 
the gaudy colors faded; the coat-of-arms turned to an uncertain grey, and was 
derisively dubbed "Grey Coat. " This was gradually metamorphosed into "Grey- 
court, "f a name which the locality still retains. 



* A crown-stone had been obtained from England at agi-eat outlay for the " old jail " at Goshen. 
But such was the feeling against everything that savored of Great Britain that Gabriel Wisner,willi 
the approval of the people, demolished the offending crown-stone witli a liammer. 

t It may interest tlie reader to trace the transition from primitive " Uack Cedai'" into classic 
" Tuxedo." 



Minisink Battle. 49 



MINISINK BATTLE. 

BRANT and his fighting men were the scourge of the Shawangnnk region 
(luring the entire War of the Revohitiou. His name was a terror to tlie 
inliahitants of that locahty; and deeds of blood and cruelty, performed hy 
him and under his direction, are told to this day that are too harrowing for 
belief. 

Historians differ as to whether Col. Joseph Brant was a half-breed or a pure- 
blood Mohawk. Tlie traits of character developed in his career would seem to 
indicate the latter as being nearer tlie truth. He had one sister, Molly, who 
became the leman of Sir William Johnson. Brant was placed, through the in- 
fluence of Sir William, at a school in Lebanon, Connecticut, where the lad Avas 
educated for the Christian ministry. It would appear, however, he adopted an 
entirely different mode of life. At the age of twenty he became the secretary 
and agent of Sir William, through Avhose influence he was induced to espouse 
the cause of Great Britain in the revolutionary trouble that was bre^ving. 
Through the same influence he was created a Colonel of the British army; and 
by reason of his birth was a warrior-chief of the Iroquois. Having had the ad- 
vantages of a liberal education, he became, in consequence, an influential i)er- 
sonage among them, and was treated with much consideration by the British 
monarch. He organized and sent forth the predatory bands of Indians which 
devastated the frontier from the Water-Gap to the Moliawk river. Some of 
these irruptions he commanded in person, particularly those which visited 
Wawarsing (Ulster county) and Minisink. In 1780 he boasted that the Esopus 
border was his old fighting ground. 

His personal appearance is thus described: " He was good looking, of fierce 
aspect, tall, and rather spare, and well-spoken. He wore moccasins elegantly 
trimmed with beads, leggings, and a breech-cloth of superfine blue, a short, 
green coat with two silver ei)aulets, and a small, round laced hat. By his side 
was an elegant, silver- mounted cutlass; and his blanket of blue cloth (pui-i)osely 
dropped in the chair on which he sat, to display his epaulets) was gorgeously 
adorned with a border of red." 

Brant has been denounced as an inhuman wretch. Even an English au- 
thor attributes to him the atrocities of Wyoming. Although in l)attle he gen- 
erally gave full scope to the murderous propensities of his followers, it cannot 
be denied he endeavored to mitigate the horrors of war whenever he could do 
so without destroying his influence with his own race. 

During the sunnner of ITTD, Brant with al)out three hundred Iroquois war- 
riors set out from Niagara. About the middle of July they api)eared on the 
heights on the west of Minisink. like a dark cloud lianging on the moinitain 
tops, ready to break upon t]ie j^lain below. Just before daylight, on the morn- 



50 Legends of the SJiaiuangiink. 

ing of the 20th, the inhabitants of the valley were awakened from their slum- 
bers by the craclding of the flames of their dwellings. Cries of dismay, the 
shrieks of the victims of the tomahawk and scalping knife, and the Avar-whooj) 
of the savages, broke upon the morning air in all their terror. Some managed 
to escape to the woods with their wives and children, and some to the block- 
houses. The savages and Tories plundered, burned and killed as they were 
disposed. 

After destroying twenty-one dwellings and barns, together with the old 
Mamachamack charch and a grist-mil], and killing an unknowii number of pa- 
triots, the enemy disappeared loaded with spoil. They did not attack any of the 
block-houses, for which the red men entertained a wholesome fear. 

On the evening of the same day Col. Tusten, of Goshen, received intelh- 
gence by an express of the events of the morning. He immediately issued or- 
ders to the officers of his command to meet him the following morning (tiie 
21st) with as many volunteers as they could raise. One hundred and forty- 
nine men were at the place of rendezvous at the appointed time. 

A council of war was held to consider the expediency of pursuit. Col. 
Tusten was opposed to risking an encounter with the noted Mohawk chief, es- 
pecially as his followers outnumbered the Goshen rnihtia, two to one. Besides 
the militiamen were not well supplied with arms and ammunition, and the 
Oolonel counseled that they wait for reinforcements which were certain to ar- 
rive. Others, however, were for immediate pursuit. They affected to hold the 
Indians in contempt; and declai'ed that they would not fight, and that a recap- 
ture of the plunder was an easy achievement. The counsels of reckless bravery, 
untempered by reason and intelligence, are not always wisest to follow. The 
deliberations were cut short by Major Meeker, who, mounting his horse and 
flourishing his sword, vauntingiy called out— " Let the brave men follow me; 
the cowards may stay behind!" 

This appeal decided the question; it silenced the prudent. The line of 
march was immediately taken up, following the old Cochecton trail seventeen 
miles, where they encamped at Skinner's mill. 

The pursuit was commenced some ' time in the night. Tradition and the 
testimony of old papers show that the party reached the house of James Finch, 
at what is now Finchville, where they took breakfast. Mr. Finch slaughtered 
-a hog, which he roasted and served up to his guests. The patriots partook of 
a hurried meal, gathered up the fragments of the hog into their knapsacks, and 
continued their march over the mountain. They told Mr. Finch not to accom- 
pany them, but to stay and have dinner ready for them on their return, as they 
would be gone but a few hours. Their way led them along the depression 
where the present highway is laid, past the burial ground where the dead of 
the settlement were formerly buried; and from the summit of the pass nearly 
half of their number took their last view of the eastern slopes. 

Crossing the mountain, they reached the house of Major Decker, then 
pushed on over an Indian trail seventeen miles further. How many of our 



Minisi)ik Jialtlc. 5 i 

strongest men, in these effeminate days, could endure such a tramp, encum- 
bered with guns and knai)sacks ? 

On the morning of the 22nd they were joined by a small reinforcement of 
the Warwick regiment under Col. Hathorn, who, as the senior of Tusten, took 
the command. At Halfway brook they came upon the Indian encampment 
of tlio previous night, and another council was held. Colonels Hathorn, Tusten 
and others were opposed to advancing further, as the number of Indian fires, 
and the extent of ground the enemy had occupied, were conclusive evidence of 
the sui)eriority of Brant's force. A scene similar to that which had broken up 
the former council was here enacted, with the same results. The voice of pru- 
dence liad less influence than the voice of bravado. It is said that the officer to 
whose tauntings this last rash act is attributed made quite a display of his 
bravery while on the march, but, with his company, was only within hearing 
wiiile tlie engagement lasted, and could not be induced to go to the relief of his 
countrymen. 

It was evident that Brant was not far in advance, and it was important to 
know whether he intended to cross the Delaware at the usual fording-place. 
Captains Tyler and Cuddeback, both of whom had some knowledge of the 
woods, were sent forward with a small scouting party to reconnoitre Brant's 
movements. What they saw led them to think Brant had already crossed, as 
thei'e were savages and plunder on the op[)Osite shore, and an Indian was then 
passing over, mounted on a horse that had been stolen from Major Decker. 
The two scouts fired at this fellow, and, it is said, wounded him fatally. But 
they were immediately shot at by some savages in their rear, and Capt. Tyler 
fell dead. Cuddeback succeeded in reaching the main body of the militiamen, 
and reported what he had seen and heard. Tyler's death caused a profound 
sensation among his fellow soldiers, but it only served to add fierceness to their 
determination. 

After leaving the mouth of the Halfway brook* (now Barr}'ville) it is be- 
lieved that Brant followed the river bank to the Lackawaxen ford, to which 
he had sent his plunder in advance. Hathorn resolved to intercept liim at the 
crossing, and to do so attempted to reach the ford first l>y a rai)id march over 
the high ground east of the river. As they approached the gi'ound on which 
the battle was fought, Brant was seen deliberately marching toward the ford. 
Owing to intervening woods and hills, the belligerents lost sight of each other, 
when Brant Avheeled to the right and passed uj) a ravine known as Dry brook, 
over which Hathorn's route lay. By this stratagem, Brant was enabled to 
tlirow himself into Hathorn's rear, cutting off a portion of Hathorn's command, 
deliberateh^ selecting his ground for a battle, and forming an ambuscade. 

The battle-ground, says Quinlan, is situated on the crest of a hill, half a 
mile northeasterly from the Dry broOk at its nearest point, three miles distant 

* W»> follow the (lesciiption given by Quinlan, in his admirable History of SulHvan, as tlie best 
yet given of the battle. 



52 Legends of the Shawangiuik. 

from Banyville and one from Lackawaxen. The hill has an altitude of twenty- 
five or thirty feet above its base, and two hundred above the Delaware, and 
descends east, west and south, while there is a nearly level plateau extending 
toward the north. This level ground is rimmed (particularly on the south side) 
with an irregular and broken ground of rocks. On tliat part of the ground 
nearest the river the Americans were hemmed in, and caught like rats in a 
trap. 

The battle commenced at nine in the morning. Before a gun was fired. 
Brant appeared in full view of the Americans, told them his force was superior 
to theirs, and demanded their surrender, promising them protection. While 
engaged in parley, he was shot at by one of the militiamen, the ball passing 
through Brant's belt. The warrior thereupon withdrew and joined his men. 
The battle opened and the forces were soon engaged in deadly conflict. 
Above the din of the strife, the voice of Brant was heard, in tones never to be 
forgotten by those who survived, giving orders for the return of those who 
were on the opposite side of the river. 

A part of the Americans kept tlie savages in check on the north side of the 
battle-ground, while others threw \\\, hastily a breastwork of stones about one 
hundred and fifty feet from the ledge which terminated the southern extremity 
of the plateau. Confined to about an acre of ground, screened by trees, rocks, 
flat stones turned on their edges, or whatever opportunity offered or exigency 
demanded, were ninety l)rave nien, who, without water, and surrounded by a 
host of howling savages, fought from ten o'clock to near sundown on a sultry 
July day. 

The disposition of the militia, and the effectual manner in which every as- 
sailal)]e point was defended, reflects credit on the mind that controlled them. 
By direction of Hathorn there was no useless firing. Ammunition was short, 
and it was necessary to husband it carefully. A gun discharged in any quarter 
revealed the position of its possessor, and left him exposed until he could re- 
load. With the exceptions indicated, every man fought in the Indian mode, 
each for himself, firing as opportunity offered, and engaging in individual con- 
flicts according to the barbarian custom. 

The annals of modern times contain no record of a more stubborn and 
heroic defense. In vain Brant sought for hours to break through the line. He 
was repelled at every point. 

What the fifty men were doing all that eventful day, wlio were sepai-ated 
from their companions during the morning, no one can now tell. We will put 
a charitable interpretation on their conduct, and suppose they were driven away 
by superior numbei's. Their movements are veiled in oblivion, and there let 
them remain. 

As the day drew to a close, Brant became disheartened. Tlie position of 
the brave patriots seemed to be impregnable, and it is said he was about to 
order a retreat when the death of a militiaman opened the way into the Amer- 
ican Hues. This faithful soldier had been stationed behind a rock on the north- 



iMinisink Jnxttlc. 53 

west side, where he had remained all day, and kept the savages in check. 
Brant saw the advantage his death afforded, and, with the Indians near him, 
ruslied into the midst of the Goshen militia. The latter seeing the savages 
swarming into the centre of the hard-fought field, became demoralized, and 
sought safety by flight. Many of them were killed or womided in the attempt. 
Some incidents of the battle are worth repeating. 

Brant killed Wisner with his own hand. Some years afterward he was 
heard to say that after the battle was over, he found Wisner on the field so 
badly wounded that he coidd not live nor be removed; that if he was left alone 
on the battle-field wild beasts w^oiild devour him; that he was in full possession 
of all his faculties; that for a man to be eaten by wild beasts while alive was 
terrible; that to save Wisner from such a fate, he engaged him in conversation, 
and shot him dead. 

Captain Benjamin Vail was wounded in battle, and after the figlit was 
over, was found seated upon a rock, bleeding. He was killed while in this situ- 
ation, and by a Tory, 

Doctor Tusten was behind a rock attending to the necessities of the wounded 
when the retreat commenced. There were seventeen disabled men under his 
care, who appealed for protection and mercy. But the savages fell upon them, 
and all, including the Doctor, fell victims to the tomahawk and scalping -knife. 

Several attempted to escape by swimming the Delaware, and were shot. 
Of those engaged in the battle, thirty escaped, and forty-five, it is known, were 
killed. The remainder were taken prisoners, or perished while fugitives in the 
wilderness. 

Major Wood, of the militia, though not a Mason, accidentally gave the 
Masonic sign of distress. This was observed by Brant, who interposed to save 
Wood's hfe, giving him his own blanket to protect him from the night air 
while sleeping. Discovering subsequently that AVood was not one of the 
Brotherhood, he denounced the deception as dishonorable, but spared his life. 
The l)laiiket was accidentally damaged while in the prisoner's possession, which 
made Brant very angry. 

One of the militiamen attempted to escape with the others, but was so far 
exhausted that he was forced to turn aside and rest. In a little while he saw 
several Indians, one after the other, pass by in pursuit of the militia, but man- 
aged to keep himself out of their sight. Presently a large and jtowerful Indian 
discovered him, when, raising his gun, he fired his last shot and fled. The sav- 
age did not pursue; he was jn'obably disabled by the shot if not killed. 

Sanuiel Helm was stationed l)ehind a tree, when he discovered tlie head of 
an Indian thrust from behind a neighboring trunk, as if looking for a patriot 
to shoot at. Helm fired nnd tlie savage fefl; but Helm was immediately liit in 
the thigh by a ball from another Indian whom he had not seen. Helm droi)ped 
to the earth, but the savage did not immediately rush up to take his Scalp, be- 
ing anxious first to discover the result of his shot. This gave Helm a chance 
to reload which he did behind a natural breast-work whick screened him from 



54 Legends of the SJiawangnnk. 

view. After dodging about a little the Indian made a dash for his scalp, but 
received a ballet instead, which put an end to his life. Helm said that the 
consternation of the Indian, on being confronted with the muzzle of his gun, 
was tiTily ridiculous. 

In April of the following year, Brant started from Niagara with another 
force to invade the frontier. At Tioga Point he detailed eleven of his warriors 
to go to Minisink for prisoners and scalps. With the remainder of his force, 
he started to invest the fort at Scoharie. Here he captured some prisoners 
who made him believe that the place was garrisoned by several hundred men — 
a bit of strategy that foiled even the wily Indian chieftain. Brant turned back, 
and shaped his course down the Delaware. One day his command was startled 
by the death-yell, which rang through the woods like the scream of a demon. 
They paused, waiting for an explanation of this unexpected signal, when, pres- 
ently, two of the eleven Indians who had been sent to the Minisink emerged 
from the woods, bearing the moccasins of their nine companions. They in- 
formed their chief that they had been to Minisink, where they had captured, 
one after the other, five lusty men, and had brought them as far as Tioga Point 
and encamped for the night. Here, while the eleven Indians were asleep, the 
prisoners had freed themselves from the cords which bound them, when each 
took a hatchet, and with surprising celerity brained nine of their captors. The 
other two savages, aroused by the noise of the blows, sprang to their feet and 
fled; but as they ran, one of them received the blade of a hatchet between his 
shoulders. Thus was the death of the slain heroes of Minisink avenged. 

For forty -three years the bones of those heroes slain on the banks of the 
Delaware were allowed to molder on the battle-ground. But one attempt had 
been made to gather them, and that was by the widows of the slaughtered men, 
of whom there were thirty-three in the Presbyterian congregation of Goshen. 
These heroic ladies set out for the battle-field on horseback; but, finding the 
journey too hazardous, they hired a man to perform the pious duty, wiio proved 
unfaithful and never returned. 

In 1822, the citizens of Goshen were led to perform a long-neglected duty 
by an address of Dr. D. R. Arnell at the annual meeting of the Orange County 
Medical Society, in which he gave a brief biography of Dr. Tusten. A com- 
mittee was appointed to collect the remains and ascertain the names of the 
fallen. 

The committee at once set upon the duty before them. The first day they 
traveled forty miles thi-ough the wilderness. At Halfway-brook, six miles 
from the battle-ground, the party left their horses. The vicinity was an un- 
broken wilderness, with no trace of improvement of any kind, and the dangej* 
of attempting to ride was so great that they chose to clamber over the rough 
ground on foot. 

The committee were astonished at the route taken by the little army; the 
descents were frightful and the country rugged beyond conception. The ma- 
jority of the bones were found on the spot where the battle was fought and 



Mini sink J hit tic. 



55 



near a small marsh or pond a foNv rods east. This fact shows that the militia, 
made reckless hy tliirst, went for water and were killed. Some were found at 
a distance of several miles. They were the remains pi-ohahly of woinided 
men, who had wandered away and finally died of tlu.'ir W(junds and hunger. 
Wild beasts may luu'e removed others. The skeleton (jf one man was found in 
the crevice of a rock where he had probably crept and died. The whole num- 
ber of l)ones collected l)y the Connnittee was about tln-ec hundred; other bones 
were subsequently found by hunters and brought in 

It may be suggested that all of the bones collected may not liave been the 
remains of the white soldiers; that it would be impossible to distinguish, so long 
afterwards, the skeleton of a white man 
from that of an Indian It should be 
borne in mind that it was the rule of 
Indian warfare, Avlien successfid, to 
gather up and carry off aU their slain. 
( )n this occasion the survivors saw the 
Indians engaged in this very duty. 

The gathered remains were taken 
to Goshen, where they were buried with 
imposing ceremonies in the presence of 
fifteen thousand persons, including the 
military of the county, and a corps of 
L'adets fron) West Point under the com- 
mand of Major Worth * 

This monument gradually fell into 
decay and no measures were taken to 
jireserve it. In ISOu, ^lerrit H. Cook, 
Vl. D., a resident of Orange county, be- 
([ueathed four thousand dollars for a 
new one, which was dedicated on the 
s;')d anniversary of the battle, on which 
occasion John C. Dimmick, a native of 
Bloomingburgh, officiated as orator 
of the day. Mrs. Abigail Mitchell, a 
daughter of Captain Bezaleel Tyler (slain at tiie battle of ^linisink), was pres- 
ent, and witnessed the ceremonies. She was five years old at tlie time of the 
battle, and had resided the greater part of her life at Cochecton. On the 2!2d 
of July, 1S70, the one hundredth anniversary of tlie Minisink battle, a large 
and enthusiastic gathering was held on the battle-ground. Although the ap- 
proach to the place was rough and exceedingly difiicult, it being necessary to 
cut a road through the woods for tlie occasion, upwards of two thousand ])er- 
sons were present at the ceremony, A monument was set upon the ground 
sacred to the blood of the slain heroes, and dedicated in conmiemoration of their 
services. 




ii 



^^^^ 






.^^3^i«fe::^' 



MONUMENT ON MINISINK B.^TTLE-GROUND. 



56 Legends of the Shawangitnk. 

It was on one pleasant morning in June that we left the hotel at Lacka- 
waxen before the people were astir, and crossing the Delaware and Hudson aque- 
duct, began the winding ascent of the mountain. After a brisk walk of about 
two miles we came to the residence of Mr, Horace E. Twichell, to whom we had 
a letter of introduction. That gentleman icindly volunteered to go with us to 
the battle-ground, which Hes partly on his premises, and locate the points of 
interest. 

The battle-field comprises several acres of table- land, bordered by an abrupt 
descent <^n all sides except a narrovv" neck at its northern extremity. It is 
thickly strewn with pieces of slate rock, which the brave heroes turned to good 
account in standing upon their edges, and lying behind their friendly shelter 
during the engagement. Some of these stones stiU remain in the position in 
which they were then left. 

On the neck of land there is a huge boulder. Behind this natural rampart, 
a hunter had taken his position on the day of the fight, and while his comrades 
loaded the guns for him, he so effectually swept the only available approach 
to the battle-ground, as to keep the whole force of Indians at bay during the 
entire contest. At length the hunter was killed, and the Indians, taking advan- 
tage of the circumstance, rushed in and the battle became a rout. 

A few yards from this rock, screened on aU sides by the contour of the 
ground and the protecting ledge, the spot was pointed out where for years lay 
the skeletons of the brave Dr. Tusten and his seventeen slain companions, who 
were all tomahawked and scalped after the battle was over. Further on stands 
an old pine tree, on which are tlie initials "J. B.," believed to have been cut 
in the bark by the Indian fighter, Joseph Brant. 

An incident of the battle was related to me while rambling over the field. 
A soldier was assisting a wounded comrade to escape. The Indians were heard 
in close pursuit, and the wounded man soon saw that all efforts on his part 
were fruitless. So taking his pocket-book and papers he handed them to his 
companion, with the request that he give them to his wife at Goshen, and bade 
liim leave him to his fate. The man made good his escape, and delivered the 
package and money as directed. 

Mother MtCowan, still living at Handsome Eddy, used to see the skeletons 
around the spring to the east of the battle-ground, and remembers seeing some 
of the soldiers that were engaged in the battle. 

Mr. Isaac Mills, about forty years ago, found a skeleton about three-fourths 
of a mile from the battle-field. Judge Thomas H. Kidgeway, of Lackawaxen, 
informed us that he rememl)ers going to pick huckleberries on the mountain 
seventy years ago, when the skeletons of the slain Minisink heroes lay thickly 
scattered about among the bushes, and distinctly recalls his childish fears of the 
bones. 

Near the foot of the monument, entirely covered up with loose slate, was 
found the skeleton of a man. This was probably the work of the Indians, who, 
for some leason, gave this man a sepulture. 



Brant ami flic ScJiool-Girls. 57 

The round stone on the top of the numumont is a white flint houlder, found 
in the Delaware river near the spot where tlie Indian was shot hy the scouts 
})revious to the hattle. 



BRANT AND THE SCHOOL-GIRLS. 

THE name of Brant was sufficient to strike the liearts of the early pioneers 
with terror. Fears of an attack from the iMohawk chief and his red 
Avarriors kept the settlements in a continual ferment. Stories of pillage and 
murder, carried on under Brant's direction, were passed from lip to lip— some 
doubtless without foundation, others greatly exaggerated —still the chieftain 
had committed deeds of blood sufficient to merit the reputation he bore. 

As might be expected, there were many false alarms, on which occasions 
the women and children would take refuge in the nearest block-house, while the 
men would arm themselves and i)rei)are for defense. The young ])eoi)le were 
l)articularly alert, and at the least luiusual noise in the woods would sound tlie 
alarm. A. young man m SuUivan county ran breathless into the nearest village 
declaring that his father's house was surrounded by more than twenty savages. 
The men turned out with their gmis; but on reaching the scene of the supposed 
danger, they discovered the enemy to be only a number of hoot-owls. 

The dread of Indians overcame all other fear. It is related of Mrs. Overton, 
of :Maniakating valley, that, during the temporary absence of her husband, the 
young mother would abandon her log-cabin at night, and taking her children 
with her, sleep in the woods or in a lye-field. Tradition says that her youngest 
child was but a few weeks old and very cross and ii'oublesome ; but it was ob- 
served that at such times it was vei-y quiet. 

But if the people were sometimes needlessly alarmed, at other times it 
would have been greatly to their advantage to have been more on their guai-d. 
The day before the massacre at Minisink, the notoiious Brant, with a body of 
Tories and Indians, attacked the settlement in the present to^\^l of Deerpark. 
Such of the inhal)itants as were warned of their danger in time, fled to the 
blockhouse for shelter. Others were surprised in their homes and in the field, 
and were either captured or slain. 

Some savages entered James Swartwout's blacksmith shop. In the shop 
were Mr. Swartwout and a negro who assisted at the forge. Swartwout di- 
rected the negi-o to stay in the shop as the Indians would not be hkely to jnolest 
him, while Swai-twout crawled up the forge chinmey and concealed himself 
there. Scarcely had he done so Avhen the savages rushed into the sho}), and a]»- 
peared nmch disappointed at finding no one but the negro present. The v. 
however, contented themselves with rummaging about the shop, tumbling 
everything over, and making havoc of whatever came in their way. Presently 



58 



Lep-ends of the Shawan^unk. 



one of them, spying the bellows handle, cauglit hold of it. Finding it would 
move, he began to operate the handle, which of course made the sparks fly. 
He now began blowing at a furious rate, and the other savages gathered round 
to see the oj)eration. Swartw^out, being directly over the fire, was nearly suffo- 
cated by the heat and smoke. The negro, apprehensive that Swartwout could 
not much longer retain his position, called upon the savage to desist, crying out 
with a voice of authority — "Stop, or you will spoil that thing," The Indian 
respected the caution, and ceased to blow. • 

Not far away, near the fort of the Shawangunk, was the log school-house. 
The savages raided the settlement while the school was in session. While the 
fathers and mothers were fleeing for their own safety, they thought of their 
children, a mile or more away, and hoped the school-house might escape the at- 
tention of the savages. But in this they w^ere doomed to disappointment. The 




BRANT AND THE SCHOOL-GIRLS. 

Indians entered, killed and scalped the teacher, Jeremiah Van Ankeu, in the 
presence of tlie scholars. Some of the larger boys shared the same fate, being 
cut down with the tomahawk; others succeeded in escaping to the Avoods. 
The girls stood by the slain body of their teacher, not knowing where to turn 
or what to do. 

Presently an Indian came along, and dashed some l)lack paint on their 
aprons, bidding them hold up the mark when they saw the Indians coming, 
and that wordd save them; and with the yell of a savage he sprang into the 
woods. This Indian was none other than Brant; and as the savages ran about 
from place to place, murdering and scalping such as came in their way, on 
seeing the black mark they left the children undisturbed. The girls induced the 
boys to come out of the woods, and the children arranged themselves m rows, 
the girls with the marked aprons standing in front. As the Indians passed and 
repassed they would hold up the palladium of safety, and v^^ere suffered to re- 
main unharmed. 



Brant and the School-Girls. 59 

Major John Decker resided in the Mamakating valley, and tradition says 
the Indians raided it for the purpose of obtaining Ins scalp, for wliich tlie British 
had offered a handsome reward, lie was Major of the Goshen Regiment of 
Foot of Orange county. 

The Major's house was constiTicted of wood, witli logs laid \\y hy way of 
fortification, and w^as closed by a heavy gate. It was the month of July. The 
men were at work in the harvest field, and no one was in tlie house except tlie 
aged mother and a child. The ^Major's wife and a colored woman were at a 
spring washing. 

A Tory entered and told the mother they w^ere going to burn down the 
house, and proceeded to l)uild a fire in the middle of tlie floor. Two pails of 
water stood in the kitchen; -the old lady poured this on the fire and extinguished 
it. The Indians told her not to do that again or they woujd kill her. Mrs. 
Decker attempted to run across the fields to another fort, but Brant sent a sav- 
age to bring her back; coolly informing her that his object in ha^^ng her 
brought back was that she might see her husband's house burn down; at the 
same time assuring her that she would not be harmed. 

" Can I save anything ? " cried the terrified woman, 

" Yes, anything you can," was the response of the Mohawk chief. 

Mrs. Decker rushed into the burning dwelling, caught u]) two beds and 
bedding, one after the other, and, with the assistance of some young Indians 
that Brant sent to help her, brought them to a place of safety. That night the 
family of Major Decker slept on the l)anks of the Xeversink, with no other 
covering than the canop}" of heaven. 

The Major w^as absent that day at a funeral; it was on his return that he 
had seen from afar the smoke of his burning dwelling. He put spurs to his 
hovse, and presently met a party of Indians in the road. The ]Major rode di- 
rectly through the party without being fired at. Then, probably through fear 
of encountering a larger force, he wheeled about and rode back again, when he 
was fired upon and wounded. His horse becoming unmanageable, he rode into 
a tree-top, closely pursued by the savages. Here he left his horse and took 
refuge in a cave, at a place near where the Erie railroad now passes. The In- 
dians followed to the opening in the rock, but did not find the object of theii- 
search. That night he made his way on foot through the mountains to Finch- 
ville, wJiere he found his son, who was one of the lads that had escaped slaughter 
at the school-house. 

This son, on running away from the Indians at the time of the attack, 
found a child a year and a half old, which had been lost by its mother in the 
confusion. He took up the little child, found his father's cow by following the 
sound (jf the bell, gave the Uttle one some milk, and restored it unharmed to 
its mother. 



6o Legends of the Shawangunk. 



CLAUDIUS SMITH; OR THE ORANGE COUNTY TORIES. 

THERE is much in the career of Claudius Smith to interest the student of 
human nature. Whether we regard his deeds of violence as but the 
legitimate working of his evil propensities, in defiance of God and man, or 
whether we deem him in a measure fortified in his attitude toward the Whigs 
by his sense of loyalty to the king, we cannot deny that he displayed qualities 
of leadership worthy of a better cause. Had he shown a like energy and 
prowess at the head of a few thousand troops, his praises would have been 
sounded on every lip. We leave for others to draw the line between the bandit 
chief, whom all abhor, and the lordly conqueror, whom all affect to honor. 

Claudius Smith is described as having been a man of large stature and of 
commanding presence; possessed of powerful nerve and keen penetration; 
cautious and wily; in short, he was admirably formed by nature for a bandit 
chieftai 

Claudius early manifested a thieving propensity, in which it is said he was 
encouraged by his father. The boy, on one occasion, having stolen some iron 
wedges, on which were stamped the owner's initials, his father assisted him to 
grind the letters out. His mother, who appears to have been of a different 
mould, was shocked at the depravity manifested by her son; and she once said 
to him as though with the voice of prophecy — "Claudius, some day you will 
die like a trooper's horse with your shoes on," meaning that he would come to 
his death by violent means. These words of his mother seemed to rankle in the 
heart of Claudius; and at a subsequent period of his life he publicly recalled them 
under circumstances that indicated an infernal depravity, deep and ingrained, in 
his nature. 

The topography of the country in which he resided, and the times in which 
he flourished, were eminently favorable for the development of those qualities 
which made his name such a terror to the Shawangunk region. The town of 
Monroe, Orange county, is entitled to the distinction of having been the resi- 
dence of Claudius Smith. This and the adjoining towns abound in wild moun- 
tains with almost impregnable fastnesses, favorable alike for marauding incur- 
sions and the secreting of booty. From these inaccessible momitain haunts the 
robbers would swooi^ dowii upon the unsuspecting and defenceless residents of 
the valley, murder and plunder to their hearts' content, and escape to their re- 
treats before assistance could be obtained. Besides, the British forces located 
at Stony Point and Fort Lee furnished a cover for the marauders to whose pro- 
tection they could fly when hard pressed, and likewise a favorable market for 
stolen property; and we may add, the British frequently were known to in- 
stigate these expeditions by the offer of reward. 

Under such conditions, Claudius Smith, who, had circumstances been 



Claudius Si/ii'f/i ; or the Orange Coitn/y Tories 6i 



i^ 



otherwise, might have developed into a respected citizen, speedily acquired a 
local reputation as unenviable as that of Rol)in Hood. His name is first met 
witli in iniblic records as being in jail at Kingston, " charged with stealing oxen 
belonging to the continent." From Kingston he was transferred to the jail at 
Goshen, where he soon found means to escape. He had sons old enough to 
join him in his plundering expediticms, and one of them, after the death of 
Claudius, assumed commantl of the gang. 

The active and influential Whigs of the vicinity were the especial ol)jects 
against which the Tory bandits directed their attacks. Claudius had made 
public threats against Col. Jesse Woodhull, Samuel Strong, Cole Curtis and 
others. From some act of personal kindness shown him l)y Col. Woodhull he 
revoked his threat against, that gentleman, but carried it out against ^Major 
Strong. The Colonel was in such continual dread of his enemy that he did not 
sleep in his own house for months before the threat Avas revoked. 

The Colonel had a valuable blooded mare which the freebooting Tory had 
set envious eyes upon, and had given out that he would steal it. For better 
security Woodhull had the animal placed in the cellar of his dwelling. One 
evening Claudius, having secreted himself in a straw barrack near the house 
for the purpose, seized a favorable opportunity to dart into the cellar while the 
family were at tea, and took the animal out. He had not left the yard ^vith 
his stolen property before he was discovered by the inmates of the house. A 
gentleman at the table sprang up with his gun, and was about to fire upon the 
retreating robber when the Colonel stopped him, observing, " Don't shoot; he'll 
kill me if you miss him." 

On another occasion Claudius made a forcible entry into the Colonel's house 
during the absence of the latter from home. Mrs. Woodlndl possessed a valu- 
able set of silver, and it was that which excited the cupidity of the Tory chief 
and his gang. While the robbers were engaged in breaking down the door, the 
heroic lady had huiriedly secreted the silver in the cradle, and placing her child 
into it was api)arently endeavoring to calm the little one to sleep. Claudius 
searched thoroughly for the missing plate; not finding it, he was content to 
leave, taking with him some articles of minor value only. Mrs. Woodluill liad 
some difficulty in quieting the child, who was old enougli to talk a little, and 
who inquired of her mother if she thought they would steal her calico frock. 

It was that same night that the gang attacked the house of Major Strong. 
They came to the Major's house about midnight when that gentleman was in 
bed. They broke open and entered the outer door of the house; they next re- 
moved a i)anel from the door leading to another room out of which opened a 
bedroom, where the Major lodged. The latter had come out of his sleeping 
apartment with a pistol and a gun; he was fired at by the miscreants, who held 
the niuzzles of their guns through the broken panel, but was unhurt by the 
discharge. He was preparing to return their fire when his assailants called 
upon him to deliver up his arms, when he should have quarter. Setting down 
his gun against the wall, he approached the door to open it ; but as he advanced 



62 Legends of the SkaivaiigiLnk. 

they perfidiously fired upon him a second time, killing him instantly, two balls 
entering his body. 

Other incidents are given of Claudius Smith's career which would disprove 
the accepted opinion that he was lost to the common dictates of humanity. It 
is claimed in his behalf that the poor man found in him a friend; that he was 
ever ready to share his meal and purse with any who stood in need; and fur- 
thermore, that what he stole from the affluent he frequently bestowed upon 
the indigent. 

Col. McClaughry was taken prisoner at the fall of Fort Montgomery in 1777, 
and confined in British dungeons and prison ships for a long time. During 
much of his confinement he was absolutely suffering for the necessaries of life. 
To ameliorate his condition his wife proposed to send him some home comforts, 
and applied to Abimal Young for a small loan for that purpose, who she knew 
had plenty of specie by him. The old miserly fellow surlily and peremptorily 
refused the loan, and the poor woman went home discomfited. 

The incident came to the ears of Claudius. "The old miser,'' exclaimed 
the Tory chief ; "I'll teach him to be a little more liberal. If he won't lend 
Mrs. McClaughry of his own will, I'll take the money from him and send it to 
the Colonel myself." 

Tradition says that shortly after this, one dark night, Claudius with a few 
trusty followers actually invested the house of Young to force that gentleman 
to produce the desired money. The old man refused to yield to their demands. 
Claudius knew there was money secreted somewhere about the house, but a 
diligent search failed to reveal it. They threatened to no purpose. They next 
took Young out into the yard and told liim they would swing him up to the 
well-pole if he did not divulge the place of its concealment; he persisted in his 
refusal to tell, whereupon the bandits put a rope around his neck and suspended 
him from the well-pole. 

Letting him down after he had hung a sufficient time, as they judged, he 
soon revived, and they again demanded his money. The old man was still 
stubborn; he refused to reveal the place where it was kept, and again he was 
dangling in the air. This was done three times. The robbers were getting im- 
patient; and the third time tliey let the old man hang so long that he was 
nearly dead when let down. When he finally revived they renewed their de- 
mand, but he had not changed his determination in the least. It was evident to 
them that he would sooner part with his life than his money. They returned 
to the house, made another search, and were rewarded by finding some money, 
together with a number of mortgages, deeds and other papers, which they 
carried off. To the credit of Claudius be it said, a part of the booty went to 
minister to the comfort of Mrs. McClaughry's imprisoned husband. 

When Claudius Smith was about to suffer the penalty of death for his 
crimes, while he stood at the scaffold at Goshen with the noose about his neck, 
Abimal Young made his way to the platform and inquired of Smith where 
those papers were that he and his followers stole from him the night they hung 



Claudius Suiitli ; or tlic Orauoc County lories, 6 



J 



him up to the Avell-pole, averring that they could be of no use to liini now. To 
wliich request the liardened man retorted, " Mr. Young, tliifi is no place to talk 
about papers; meet me in the next world and I will tell you all about them." 

An old resident of Orange county, still referred to as Judge Bodle, on one 
occasion met Claudius in the road in a lonely locality. Each knew the other, 
as they Avere neighbors; the Judge saw that escape was impossible, so he ,\\)- 
proached the noted bandit with a bold front. The meeting was seemingly a 
friendly one, Claudius evidently enjoying the discomfiture of the Judge. He 
inquired of the latter the news from the river, and continued: " Mr. Bodlc, you 
seem weary with walking; go to my dwelling-house yonder and ask my wife to 
get you a breakfast, and tell her I sent you." It is not related whether the 
Judge accepted the invitation or not; probably he made the speediest time pos- 
sil)le to a place of safety as soon as he was out of sight of his would-be enter- 
tainer. 

The atrocities of the Tory gang at last became so daring and formidaljle 
that, after the assassination of Major Strong, Gov. Clinton, Octol)er 31, 1778, 
offered a large rew^ard for the apprehension of Smith and his two sons. Eichard 
and James. On being apprised of the Governor's proclamation, he fled to Long 
Island for safety. What is worthy of remark, both Gov. Clinton and Claudius 
Smith — the executive and the outlaw — were residents of southern Orange 
county, and may have been personally known to each other. 

The determination of Claudius to go to Long Island for greater security 
was most unfortunate for himself. One Major John Brush made up a party, 
and during a dark night visited the house in which the Tory chief was stopping, 
seized him while he was in bed and carried him across the sound into Connect- 
icut. He was next conveyed under a strong escort to Fishkill Landing, where 
he was met by Col. Isaac NicoU, sheriff of Orange county; and from thence, 
under guard of Col. Woodhuirs troop of light-horse, was taken to Goshen. 
Here he was heavily ironed and placed in jail to await his trial. He was tried 
on the 13th of January. 1775», on three indictments for burglary and robbery, 
and found guilty on each of them, and nine days thereafter was publicly exe- 
cuted in Goshen. 

During the period of his incarceration at that place, both before his trial 
and while he was awaiting execution, Claudius Smith lived in hopes his men 
would undertake his rescue. Even Avhen he was being led to the scaffold he 
was observed to cast furtive glances over his shoulder towards Slate hill, where 
about a mile away was a cave which was said to be a rendezvous of the robber 
gang. But he was so strongly guarded that no attempt at rescue was made, 
and would doubtless have failed if undertaken. One of tlie guard was stationed 
at all times at the " grief-hole " opening into his cell, with a loaded musket, with 
orders to shoot him dead if any attempt was made on the jail by his friends 
outside. 

The fated hour amved, and Claudius was led out of his gloomy prison and 
permitted to tak<> hi>< last look upon earth. He Avalked up the steps of the 



64 Legends of the Shaivangutik. 

scaffold with a firm tread. He had dressed himself with scrupulous neatness, 
in black broadcloth with silver buttons, and white stockings. This was in the 
days of public executions; and he looked from the scaffold into the faces of 
thousands who had gathered there to see him die. He smiled grimly as he 
spoke to several men in the crowd below whom he knew. 

Before the final adjustment of the noose Claudius stooped to i-emove his 
shoes. When asked why he did so he repeated the words of his mother that he 
would die with his shoes on, and added that he "wanted to make her out a 
liar." He was interred near the scaffold. Years afterwards a gentleman by 
the name of Wood, as he stood conversing with an acquaintance on the village 
green at Goshen, happening to press upon the greensward with his cane at a 
certain spot, found it would easily pierce the soil as though there was some sort 
of hollow underneath. A slight examination of the place showed it to be a 
shallow grave, and that the bones of a human skeleton lay entombed there. 
Further inquiry proved the remains to be those of the noted bandit chief, 
Claudius Smith. 

Scores of people were attracted to the place, and some of the more curious 
carried away portions of the skeleton as souvenirs. Orrin Ensign, the village 
blacksmith, made some of the bones into knife-handles; doubtless some of 
them are still doing duty in that capacity. It is even believed by many of the 
people of Goshen that the skull of Claudius Smith is embedded in the masonry 
over the front door of the present court-house in that place. 

Some of Smith's associates were even greater criminals than himself. His 
son James was hung at Goshen soon after his own execution: his eldest son, 
William, was subsequently shot in the mountains, and the body never was 
buried but became the food of wolves and crows, where the bones lay bleaching 
for years afterward. 

The following facts, gathered from a newspaper printed in 1770, will serve 
to give a little more of the history of this family : 

" We hear from Goshen that a horrible murder was committed near the 
Sterling Iron Works on the night of Saturday, the 26th of March, by a party 
of villains, five or six in number, the principal of whom was Eichard Smith, 
the oldest surviving son of the late Claudius Smith, of infamous memory. 
These bloody miscreants it seems that night intended to murder two men who 
had shown some activity in apprehending those robbers who infested the neigh- 
borhood. 

" They first w^ent to the house of John Clark, near the iron works, whom 
they dragged from his house and then shot him. Some remains of life being 
observed in him, one of them said ' He is not dead enough yet,'' and shot him 
through the arm again, and then left him. He lived some hours after, and 
gave some account of their names and behavior. They then went to the house 
of a neighbor, Vho, hearing some noise they made on approaching, got up and 
stood on his defense, with his gun loaded and bayonet fixed, in a corner of his 
little log cabin. They burst open the door, but seeing him stand with his gun, 




KUt'K lill T O 



N THE DELAWAKK I'lVISluN EKIK KAILWAV. NKAK I'oUT JKIi\l^. N. V. 



lidward Roblin. 65 

they were afraid to enter, and tliouglit proper to march off. The following was 
pinned to Clark's coat:— 

" 'A Warnincj to thk Rebels. — You are hereby warned at your peril to 
desist from hanging any more friends to government as you did Claudius Smith. 
You are likewise warned to use James Smith, James Flnelling, and William 
Cole well, and ease them of their irons, for we are determined to hang six for 
one, for the blood of the innocent cries aloud for vengeance. Your noted 
friend Captain Williams and his crew of robbers and murderers we have got 
in our power, and the l)lood of Claudius Smith shall be repaid. There are par- 
ticular companies of us that belong to Col. Butler's army, Indians as well as 
white men, and particularly numbers from New York, that are resolved to be 
avenged on you for your cruelty and murder. We are to i-emind you tliat you 
are the beginners and aggressors, for by your cmel oppressions and blood}- 
actions you drive us to it. This is the first, and we are determined to pursue 
in on your heads and leaders to the last //// the whole of yon are murdered.'' " 

But this son of Claudius did not possess the qualities of leadership displayed 
by his father, and the clan was finally broken up by the people of Monroe, as- 
sisted by some troops from Washington's ai-my. Richard Smith took refuge 
in Canada; others fled to parts unknown, and thus ended the highwayman's 
profession in Orange county. Many localities of the vicinity will long be re- 
membered from their association with the deeds of blood and crime that made 
the clan famous. Their retreats in the mountains can be readily found to this 
day by the curious. 

That the Tories buried much valuable booty in these mountains may bo 
inferred from the circumstance that about the year 1805 some of Smith's de- 
scendants came from Canada, and searched for the property according to direc- 
tions that had been lianded down to them. They foujid a lot of nniskets, but 
nothing else. About the year 1S24, descendants of Edward Roblin, another of 
the gang, came from Canada with written directions, and explored the country 
with no better results. Search was made in a certain spring where it was said 
valuable silver plate had been secreted, but nothing of value was found. Per- 
haps the other members of the band found the depository, and, unknown to 
Smith and Roblin, appropriated the property. 



EDWARD ROBLIN. 



MORE than a century ago there lived near the base of the Shawangiuik 
mountain, in Orange county, a well-to-do-farmer by the name of Price. 
One day a boy came to him seeking employment. Mr. Pi-ice eyed the lad cir- 
cumspectly over the rim of his gold spectacles, asked him a few (juestions, and 
was so well pleased with his ready answers and intelligent ways that he con- 
sented to take him on trial. The boy proved to be an industrious and tiiist- 



66 Legends of the Slia^uangunk. 

worthy hand, and remained with Mr. Price until he had grown up into a tall, 
fine-looking young man. That lad was Edward Roblin 

Now it so happened that Mr. Price had a comely daughter named Zadie, a 
year or two younger than Edward. Inasmuch as the young people were 
thrown much into each other's company, with few other associates of their 
own age, it was but natural that the childlike friendship of youth should ripen 
and develop into a more tender and enduring affection as they grew to maturity. 
Mr. Price was not a very observing man, or he was too much absorbed in 
money-making, or else the young people maintained a very discreet behavior 
during their courtship; certain it is, that the first intimation the old man had 
of the state of affairs, was when young Edward one day approached him and 
formally asked the hand of his daughter in marriage. 

This revelation fell upon the father like a thunderbolt. He fiew into a 
towering passion; sent his daughter up stairs, and forbade their speaking to one 
another again. In vain the young man pleaded his cause; he had served him 
long and faithfully, almost as many years as Jacob had served of old. The 
father was immovable. " You can't have my daughter, and that's the end of 
it," and he sent the young man from his presence. 

In one important matter the father failed to exhibit the wise foresight for 
wliich he was noted— he did not discharge the young man; in fact he could not 
well manage the farm without him. It must not be thought strange, there- 
fore, that the young people found means to communicate with each other, and 
to carry on a sort of clandestine courtship. 

One morning Edward was not found at his chores. And he was always 
so punctual. Mr. Price went to his room and knocked. No response. He 
opened the door. The room was empty, nor did the bed bear evidence of having 
been slept in the night before. 

"A pretty how-d'ye-do, I do declare," and the old man flew quickly to 
the door of his daughter's apartment. He did not stop to knock. The door 
yielded to his touch. Her room, too, was without an occupant, the bed care- 
fully made, and the pillows in place. The truth now broke in upon the mind 
of the old man. 

" It's fully twenty miles to the Dominie's, and, by my troth, I'll be there, 
too ! " ejaculated he. 

He hastened to a local magistrate, where he swore out a warrant on a false 
accusation against young Robhn for debt. He next secured the attendance of 
a constable, and thus equipped the two went flying over the country behind 
Mr. Price's fleetest horse. Arrived at the house of the Dominie they did not 
stop for ceremony; there was no time for that; but they burst unannounced 
into the room just as the young couple were standing up before the minister. 

*' Ha, my pretty birds, but I've caught you finely ! " And while the father 
took charge of the young lady, the constable took charge of the young 
man, leaving the Dominie to muse at his leisure on the mutability of 
human affairs, and mourn over his loss of a marriage fee. Zadie, dis- 



Edward Robliii. 67 

consolate and inconsolable, was taken back to her home; while Edward, 
without friends and in the clutches of the law, was thrown into prison 
along with felons of the basest sort. In vain he protested he was under no 
pecuniary obligation to Mr. Price: that the money paid to him by tliat gentle- 
man, on which the charge for his arrest was based, was for services well and 
faithfully rendered. Tlie word of Mr, Price was sufficient to deprive Edward 
of his liberty, w^hether by just cause or otherwise was then nothing to the ques- 
tion; wliile his influence was such that he could get the trial postponed for an 
indefinite period. Meanwhile Edward's incarceration was an insurmountable 
barrier to his love-makuig for the present; at the same time the old man 
chuckled at the success of his scheme to get Edward effectually out of the way, 
while he proceeded to mature his plan of marrying Zadie more to his wishes. 

To while away the dull hours of his imprisonment Edward learned to play 
tlie fiddle. He soon became so skillful in the use of the instrument that he 
found in it a new language in which to express Ms disappointment, and merge 
liis never-dying affection for his sweetheart into sounds of melancholy melody 
that were wafted far beyond the hmits of his prison bars. His story of roman- 
tic incident had got abroad; and love-lorn damsels would come with shppered 
feet to Hsten to his tale of disappointment, as he drew it out in languishing 
harmonies. Not unfrequently whole bevies of Goshen maidens would gather 
under his window of a pleasant summer evening, and, casting anxious glances 
upward at the baiTed window, heave a sigh of pity in Ms behalf. 

Months rolled by. Edward was still in prison. No trial had been accorded 
him, with no immediate prospect of any. All this while he had received no 
word, no token from Zadie. The vigilance of a father was never relaxed, and 
no love epistles could pass between them. 

Driven to desperation by the entreaties and commands of her tyrant father, 
Zadie at last married a man she abhorred, nmch older than herself, but who 
had the reputation of being wealthy. As soon as this was consummated, the 
father with a maUcious pleasure took means to have it speedily communicated 
to the ears of young Roblin. The strains of the fiddle were now more melan- 
choly and grief -laden than ever; and one of the fair listeners under Edward's 
window was moved to tears, so great a soitow did the doleful vibrations convey. 

The jail-keeper had a pretty daughter. It was a part of her duty to take 
food to the prisoners. It may have been the result of accident, or sheer adver- 
tence on her part, but the fullest plate and the choicest shce was apt to be 
handed in at the " grief -hole " of Edward's cell. The jailer himself often con- 
descended to speak a kindly word to him. An interest now began to be awak- 
ened in the minds of outsiders for his release; even Mr. Price himself could now 
have no reason for desiring a continuance of his imprisonment. But young 
Edward did not wait for the slow process of law to reUeve him from his con- 
finement. 

One morning as the jailer was making his accustomed rounds lie was sur- 
prised to find the cell of Edward tenantless. An inspection of his dwelling re- 



68 Legends of tJie Shawangiuik. 

vealed the fact tliat his daughter's room was hkewise unoccupied. Just then 
word came to him from the stahle boy that the stall of his favorite chestnut 
gelding was empty. Putting this and that together, the poor jailer was lost in 
imagining all sorts of evils; in short he was so bewildered he knew not which 
way to turn; his grief at the loss of his chestnut gelding was the most bitter of 
all; and to satisf}^ himself he made a visit in person to the stable, and found it 
was but too true — his favorite was gone, the stall was empty, with the exception 
of a limb from a chestnut tree in the yard, which limb was tied to the mangei- 
in lieu of the horse. To this limb was attached a note addressed to himself in 
tlie following words: 

My Dear Father-in-Law — As you will be when you read this, — pardon the Uberty I take in 
exchangiiio- horses with you. I acknowledge this is a horse of another color, still there is not much 
difference; as yours was a chestnut horse the exchange is but fair, fortius is a horse chestnut. It is 
the best legacy I can leave you at present, coupled with the best wishes of 

Edward Koblin. 

All the village dames suddenly discovered that the jailer's daughter was 
a shiftless minx. Nothing moi'e was heard of her or of her husband until Ed- 
ward turned u|) with the Tory gang of Claudius Smith. Edward was second 
in enterprise and daring to none but his chief. 

The husband of Zadie Price turned out to be a poor, miserable fellow, whose 
reputed wealth was only pretension. Zadie soon returned to her father's home, 
rapidly went into a decline, and in a few years died of a broken heart. 



LIEUTENANT BURT. 



PERHAPS the most severe chastisement ever meted out to the Tories and 
their Indian allies in the region of which we write, was on an occasion in 
which Lieutenant James Burt took an active part. Lieutenant Burt was a res- 
ident of the town of Warwick, Orange county; and was an active Whig, bold, 
aggressive, and vigilant in defending the neighborhood against the attacks of 
the Tory outlaws. 

In the village of W^arwick resided a silversmith by the name of Johnson. 
He lived in a stone house, and from the nature of his business, having at times 
considerable silver plate and money about him, he kept his apartments carefully 
sceured and guarded. The promise of so much rich booty excited the cupidity 
of his Tory neighbors, and they resolved to attack and rob the house on the first 
favorable opportunity. Accordingly, one dark, rainy night, a party of eleven 
Tories surrounded his house, some of Johnson's nearest neighbors being with 
the gang. 

Johnson's houseliold consisted of two sisters and two negro boys, none of 



Lieutenant Jhtrt. 69 

them being of any assistance in defending the place. He made a stul)born re- 
sistance; but the robbers broke ()i)en the house, and one of them deahng a heavy- 
sword-cut on Jolmson's slioulder, which disabled him, the ruffians were free to 
ransack the house at their will. 

One of the negi-o boys and a Mr. Coe had been out that night eeling. 
Coming home just as the Tories were at the lieight of their pillaging, the lat- 
ter, supposing the settlers had mustered to attack them, became frightened and 
fled, taking with them all the valuables of the house. 

Lieutenant Burt was inmiediately ai)prised of the occurrence; and though 
the night was dark, and the rain falling in torrents, he inmiediately started 
to warn out his company. His way led him through a piece of woods; and 
while passing through he thought he heard three guns snap. Burt drew up 
his nuisket to Are, in-oposing to shoot at random in the direction of the sound; 
but as he ieared the flash of his gun woidd expose his position, he refrained and 
passed on. 

He warned out his company, and before morning they were in full pursuit 
of the Tory gang. Coming upon some Continental troops in the moimtains, 
the latter were induced to join in the pursuit, the regular troops following one 
side of the range and the volunteers the other. 

Lieutenant Burt's company suddenly came upon the robbers Avhile the lat- 
ter were encamped and eating their breakfast. They at once opened fire upon 
the robbers, and killed five out of the eleven. The other six started to mn, 
when another of the gang was brought down by a shot in the leg, and secured. 
The other five made their escape and fled toward New Jersey, closely followed 
by their pursuers. A number of stolen articles were found at this place. 

The whole population along the route of retreat was alarmed and every 
body joined in the pursuit of the fugitives. Three more were shot during the 
chase; the other two made their way to Hackensack, where each stole a horse 
and continued their flight. They were again pursued, the farmers tendering 
the troops the use of their horses for the purpose; at last one was sl\ot and 
killed, and the other wounded and captured. 

Lieutenant Burt had told the story of his hearing the snapping of guns in tlie 
woods, but his companions were inclined to discredit his stoiy, and jeered liim 
not a little at his groundless alarm. To convince them he was not nn'staken, 
Burt led them to the spot where he heard the guns snap. It was found the rob- 
l)ers had been seated on a log Avithin a few yards where the Lieutenant ])assed, 
as was shown by a number of stolen articles they had left there. The rain liad 
wet the priming of their guns, to which circumstance he probably owed his prov- 
idential escape. 



Legends of the Shawangunk. 



THE DUBOIS HOMESTEAD. 

AN early settler and patentee of Orange county, and one who figured quite 
largely in events pertaining to the frontier history of what is now ]\lont- 
gomery to%vnship, was Henry Wileman, an Irisliman by birth, and a man of 
many sterling qualities. He was the proprietor of a tract of 3000 acres granted 
him in 1700; the estate was located on the east bank of the Walkill, below the 
viDage of Walden. His Tiame appears on the records as a member of St. x\n- 
drew's church, as early as 1733. A church edifice consti-ucted of logs, that had 
been built on his land for the use of the society, was standing in 1775. 

Wileman was a free-Uver, noble, and generous to a fault. He built his log 
palace on the site where afterward stood the DuBois homestead, of Revolutionary 
fame. It was a beautiful location; the soil was fine, and the patentee of 3000 
acres entertained right royally. His convivial propensities frequently carried 
him to excess, and, if tradition is to be credited, the revelries in the Wileman 
log house were notorious thiough the country round. 

In process of time Henry Wileman died, and it was meet that he should 
be buried as became a patentee of 3000 acres. It does not appear that he ever 
married; or that any relative had ever followed him to this distant clime. But 
the rich, when they die, never lack for mourners, or at least those who out- 
wardly affect great sorrow foi' their death. So it came to pass that the friends 
of Wileman arranged to have the burial take place with all the pomp and 
splendor and outward tokens of regard for his memory that should characterize 
the funeral solemnities of a great man, according to the notions and customs of 
those early times 

It was then the prevailing usage to furnish liquor on all such occasions. 
No funeral was complete witliout it. They would sooner think of doing with- 
out the sermon than without the rum. As Wileman died possessed of his 
thousands of acres, it would be a lasting disgrace to limit the supply of liquor 
when celebrating his obsequies. The cellar was stored with the choicest wines; 
what could be more appropriate, or what could better voice the public sorrow, 
than that these wines should be drawn forth and made to do duty in assisting 
in the giving of suitable honors to the memory of their late owner ! 

In short, the people, young and old, were urged to drink. If any were 
backward, they were chided for their lack of respect for the memory of the 
departed, whose obsequies they were then observing; and the wine was handed 
round when they could not well help themselves. 

At length the hour came in which the funeral cortege was to move from 
the late residence of the deceased to his place of sepulchre. This was before 
the day of black caparisoned steeds and heavily draped catafalques. The pro- 
cession was more primitive in its make-up. All being ready, the bearers of the 



The Dubois IIoDicstcad. 71 

remains of the deceased, the bier carriers, mourners, friends and neighbors in 
attendance, started on foot to the Httle l)urial-i)lace behind the log clunrli, 
where the open grave awaited its tenant. 

But the people had undertaken a greater task than they could accomplish. 
Overcome by the intensity of their sorrow, or by their too frequent and lung- 
continued libations of the contents of the wine-cellar, the friends, mourners, 
and finally the bearers, one by one fell out by the way, either to sink insensible 
into the highway, or to make their way homeward as best they could. 

In short, the corpse was let down in the road before they had proceeded 
half way to the grave, and there abandoned. 

Among that number there was one sober enough to realize that the deatl 
ought not to be left unburied, and that it savored too nmch of irreverence to 
leave the cori)se unattended in the middle of the load. To convey the remains 
to the churchyard by his own unaided strength was simply imi)ossil)le; it was 
no less impracticable to carry the coffin back to the house, and await a more 
favorable opportunity to complete the burial. Here was a quandary that would 
have puzzled the brain even of a soberer man. At last he hit upon a way out 
of the difficulty, and put the plan into immediate execution. He procured a 
shovel, and proceeded to dig a grave in the road by the side of the coffin; when 
he had dug to a sufficient depth In; rolled the c-offin over into it, and there cov- 
ered up the mortal remains of the free and noble-hearted Irishman, the patentee 
of 8000 acres. ^Vith no monument to mark his last resting-place, this was all the 
sepulchre that was accorded him for many a long year. 

B}' an alteration in the road the grave was thrown into an adjoining field; 
and when "Mr. Peter Xeaffie afterward excavated a cellar for a dwelling, he unex- 
pectedly came upon the coffin and bones of Henry Wileman, and gave them a 
respectable burial. 

The farm on which these occurrences took place was the property, at the 
time of the Revolution, of Peter DuBois, a British Tory and a refugee. In 17S2 
it was occupied by a detacliment of the American army from the cantonment 
at New Windsor, sent here to protect some government property. 

One cold, stormy night, late in October of that year, John INIcLean, after- 
ward Commissary General of Xew York for a number of years, was sent from 
this encampment with papers for the Commander-in-Chief at Newburgh. At 
a point in the Shawangunk road where it crosses the Stony brook, McLean was 
waylaid, seized, taken from his horse, gagged, tied to a tree, and the papers re- 
moved from his custody. In this position he was left by the robbers to the 
chances of liberation by a possible traveler. He was relieved from his uncom- 
fortable position early the next morning by a horseman who chanced that way, 
but he nearly [)erislied from cold during the night. This accident, by bringing 
bim into notice, contributed not a little to his subsequent ])olitical preferment. 
His horse was never recovered, but the government remunerated him for his 
loss. It is beheved the marauders were some of the notorious gang of Claudius 
Smith. 



72 Legends of the Shawangunk. 



MASSACRE AT FANTINEKILL. 

THE following incidents occurred (says the Bevier pamphlet) in the midst 
of a settlement of the descendants of the French Huguenots, and bring 
to view the. distinguishing traits of that people. They were bold, persevering 
and resolute, and were firm believers in the doctrine of a particular Providence, 
which they did not forget to invoke in every time of need. The three families, 
to whom this narrative especially relates, lived at Fantinekill, near to each 
other, and about three-fourths of a mile northeast of EllenviUe. 

A young negro, known as Robert,- Uved at Widow Isaac Bevier's. He 
heard an unusual tramping around the house, just at the dawn of day, like that 
of horses. He got up and hstened, and fomid that the noise was made by In- 
dians. 

He opened the door, and stepping back for a little start, jumped out and 
ran. In his flight he received a wound on his head from a tomahawk, and a 
baU was fired through the elbow^ of his roundabout, but did not hurt him. The 
Indians sang out in their own tongues, " Run, you black! run, you black I" It 
does not appear that he was pursued by them. He made his escape over the 
lowland to Napanock, stopping by the way at a stack to staunch the blood that 
was flowing profusely from his wound. The Indians immediately commenced 
the attack; the widow's sons were both killed, the house was set on fire, and 
the women driven into the cellar. The daughter Magdalene took the Dutch 
family Bible with her. When the flames reached them there, they chose rather 
to deliver themselves up to £he savages than to suffer a horrible death by fire. 
They made their way through the cellar window, the mother in advance. The 
Indians were ready to receive their unfortunate and unoffending victims. 
What tongue can describe the feelings of mother and daughter at that moment ? 
Sentence was immediately pronounced against the mother— death by the ruth- 
less tomahawk— whilst the daughter was detained as a prisoner. It is said that 
a young Indian brave took a sudden fancy for her, and interposed in her behalf. 
The afflicted girl, as soon as she knew the decision of their captors, threw^ aii 
apron over her head so as not to see her mother killed ! All this while she had 
retained the Dutch Bible in her arms; this was now wrested from her and 
stamped in the mud. 

When the Indians left the place they took her a short distance into the woods, 
and sent her back with a war -club, and a letter written by the Tories to Capt. 
Andrew Bevier, at Napanock. In the letter the Tories invited the old Captain 
to dine wdth them next day at Lackawack. There was an allusion in it to the 
club— that so they meant to serve him. This club was stained with fresh blood, 
and adhering to it were some locks of human hair. On the girl's return she re- 
covered her invaluable treasure— her Dutch Bil)le; some of the leaves were 



Massacre at /•aulinckill 73 

soiled by thr mud, but not materially. It is still preserved as a in-ecious relic 
in tbe family of her relatives. 

Tliis widow Bevier had a daughter by the name of Catlierine, that had been 
lately married to Abrani Jansen, whose father lived about four miles southwest 
of Fantinekill, .The elder Jansen Was strongly suspected of being a Tory, ;iiid 
of communicating with and assisting the Indians, the following being some of 
the riivumstances on which this suspicion rested: 1. Jlis }>remises, altliough 
oji the outposts and unguarded, were not molested. 1'. The prints of Indian 
moccasins were seen about his house. ?^. His daughter, who was at a neigh- 
bor's house, was importuned to return home the night before Fantinekill was 
burned, -t. It was so managed that his daughter-in-law was absent from her 
mother's house on a visit to Jacob Bevier's at Xapanock. n. By the death of 
his daughter-in-law's family, his son fell heir to the estate at Fantinekill. 

The family of Michael Sock were all killed. As none survived to tell the 
tale, no i)articulars can be given here. There were a father, a mother, two 
grown-up sons and two small children in the household. A young man, either 
a Sock or a Bevier, had iim some distance from the house into a })iece of 
l)lowed ground, where a desperate contest had evidently taken place between 
him and an Indian. A large space had been trodden down, and the scalped 
and mangled corpse of the young man lay ui)on it — ^he had several wounds from 
a tomahawk on his arms. A few^ days before there had been a training day at 
Xapanock, and this same young man had loudly boasted that he was not afraid 
of Indians. 

At the house of Jesse Bevier, the savages and their accompanying Tories 
met with a warm i-eception. The first salute that Uncle Jesse received was 
when the l)locks in the window w-ere stove in, and two or three balls were fired 
just above his head as he lay in bed. He sprang up and seized an axe, with 
which he prevented them from entering the window, at the same time calling 
to his sons David and John, who immediately responded. A desperate action 
ensued, for this family were all famous marksmen. This was especially true 
of David, who had some choice powder for his own use, which his mother 
brought for%vard in the course of the conflict. He declined to use it, saying that 
common powder was good enougli to shoot Indians with. They had the i)Owder 
loose in basins on a ^able for the sake of convenience, and measured the charges 
in their hands. The women assisted in loading, it l)eing connnon to have a 
double stock of arms. But the enemy approached from a })oijit against which 
this little band of Huguenot heroes could not bring their guns to bear, and 
found means to set fire to the old log house. 

Their situation now became critical. Every drop of licjuid in the house was 
api)lied to retard the progress of the flames. The women took milk, and even 
swill, in their mouths and forced it through the cracks of the logs, hoping in 
this way to protract their existence until relief could come from Napanock. 
At this aNN'ful crisis, when death in its most awful form was staring them in 
the face, that pious mother ])i-o])osed that they should susjiend hostilities and 



74 Legends of the Shawangtuik. 

unite in petitions to the throne of grace for help David rephed that " she must 
do the praying while they continued to fight." So that mother prayed, and 
the prayer was answered in an unexj)ected manner. 

In the course of the morning, after the battle commenced at Fantinekill, 
Jesse Bevier's dog, without any sign or motion from his master, nor having 
been trained to any thing of the kind, ran to Napanock, to the house of Lewis 
Bevier, his master's brother. He approached Lewis, and jumping up against 
his breast looked him in the face, then ran to the gate which led to his master's, 
looking back to see if he was coming; this he did several times. Lewis could 
distinctly hear the firing at Fantinekill, and could easily divine what was going 
on. So, taking his arms, he hastened to the house of a neighbor, and told him 
the dog had come to call him, and that he was resolved to go to his brother's 
relief, although the Indians wei-e expected there every minute, and it was 
almost certain death to go alone, yet "it was too much for flesh and blood to 
stand." 

Standing by, in hearing of the conversation, was the neighbor's son, Con- 
radt, a stalwart youth who was extremely fleet of foot, and who boasted that 
no Indian could outrun him. This young man's patriotism was kindled by the 
remarks of Lewis, and volunteering his services, the two set out over the low- 
lands for Fantinekill. When they came near, the Indian sentry on the hill 
fired an alarm. The Indians and Tories, not knowing how large a company 
was coming, immediately withdrew from the vicinity of the house and the two 
men rushed in. The flames at this moment had extended to the curtains of 
the bed. The door was now thrown open, and the women rushed down the hill 
to the spring after water, while the men stood at the door with guns to protect 
them. 

Among the women who went to the spring was Jesse Bevier's daughter, 
Catherine. While at the spring she heard the groans of the dying in the 
swampy grounds near by. Among them she i-ecognized some Tories — she 
could distinguish them by their striped pantaloons, and by the streaks which 
the sweat made in their painted faces. The fire was happily extinguished, and 
this family saved from an awful catastrophe. 

Colonel Cortland's regiment had been lying in the vicinity of Napanock 
for some time preceding this event, but their time of service had expired a few 
days before the attack on Fantinekill; and it is supposed that the Tories had 
made this fact known to the Indians. But the soldiers, having received some 
money, had got into a frolic at a tavern at Wawarsing, and were there on the 
morning of the alarm. They were mustered with all ])ossible speed, and when 
they came to Napanock, were joined by Capt. Andries Bevier's company, and 
the united forces marched to the scene of action. When they came to the 
Napanock creek, the Indian yells and war-whoops were heard on the western 
hills, and the savages fired upon them as they were crossing the stream, and 
continued to fire upon them as they passed on toward Fantinekill. Their fire 
was returned by the regiment, but it is not known that any loss was sustained 



Massacre at Faiitiuckill. 75 

on either side at this stage of the action. The Indians hore off west, setting 
fire to the woods as they went to avoid i)ursnit. 

When the war-whoop was heard on the hills west of Napanock, and the 
soldiers were seen leaving the place to go to Fantinekill, the women, children, 
and invalids made a preciintate flight to the Shawangunk mountain, ex'iHX'ting 
the Indians would enter Napanock and burn the place, which they could have 
done with ease. Two sons of Andries Bevier, aged twelve and fourteen, ran 
across the mountain, through the burnt woods, barefooted, a distance not less 
than five miles. They first came to the residence of a ]\Tr. Manse, on the east 
side of the mountain, then passed on to Shawangunk village, and gave the 
alarm. Several members of Jacob Bevier's family also made their way through 
the woods; but some of the neighbors missed their way, got lost, and were 
all night in the mountain, which was full of people from both sides, A\ith horns, 
looking for them. The small children, and those of the inhabitants that were 
feeble and infirm, went only to the base of the declivity, and secreted them- 
selves among the scraggy rocks, especially along the sides of a noted defile 
known as ' ' Louis Ravine. ' ' In their flight they were joined by the young black, 
Robert, who escaped from Fantinekill. 

In fording the Rondout creek, a child of Andrew Bevier came near being 
swept down \\\Wi the current. He was caught by a friendly hand and helped 
ashore. When they arrived at the foot of the mountain an invalid soldier 
climbed a tree to see if Napanock was on fire. When he heard the sound of 
musketry he said he could distinguish the firing of Cortland's regiment from 
that of the Indians, because the former " fired by platoons." Towards night 
the men came to look for their families; but the women and children who were 
in hiding, apprehending they might be Tories, gave no heed to their calls until 
they were certain they were friends. 

jMr. Jacob Bevier, of Napanock, was sick and uiiable to be moved. All the 
family had fled across the mountain except an insane brother, who was sitting 
on the fence unconscious of his danger, and a daughter who had resolved to 
remain with her father. Jacob expostulated with her, saying that if the 
Indians came, she could not save him, and in that case both must ine^itably 
fall Ix'fore the tomahawk and scalping-kiiife. Every feeling of humanity and 
affection I'ose in opposition to the disinterested exhortations of a tender father; 
but his sound reasoning and the instinct of self-preservation at length pre- 
vailed, and she made her way for Old Shawangimk, and being more fortunate 
in finding the path, she arrived first at the i)lace of destination. 

The noble conduct of Capt. Kortright on this occasion is worthy of record. 
As soon as he heard of the affair at Fantinekill, without aAvaiting orders from 
his superior officer, he directed his sergeant to order out his company, in all 
about seventy men, armed and equipped, with })rovisions for two days, and to 
report at his house next morning at daylight. The summons was promptly 
obeyed, and the comi)any Avas marched to Grahamsville \\\\\v a A^iew of inter- 
cepting the Indians on their return from Fantinekill. He selected a suitable 



76 Legends of the ShawangU7ik. 

place, arranged his men in oider, and awaited the arrival of the Indians. But, 
as usual, the savages discovered him first; and instead of coming by the usual 
route, they passed by in the rear of his men. The first intimation that Kort- 
right had of the presence of the Indians was a volley delivered into his midst 
from an unseen enemy. One rifle ball struck within six inches of the old 
Captain's head; but the savages kept at a safe distance, knowing they had an 
old Indian fighter to grapple with. 

One of the soldiers named Johannis Vernooey declared that he was hit b}'' 
a ball. The others, thinking it was only the result of fright, sang out, " Where 
has it hit you, Honsum ? Where has it hit you, Honsum ? " At last it was 
discovered that the strap which held the buckle to his knee was actually cut off 
by a bullet. The Indians soon made their way off, filling the woods with their 
yeUs and war-whoops, without once coming into view. As an eye-witness of 
the affair expressed himself, " You can't see an Indian in the woods." 

Bevier affirms that six of the persons who perished at Fantinekill were 
buried in one grave near the place where they lived and died. The loss of the 
enemy is not known. The only house that stood where the village of Ellenville 
is now located, was burned. It was owned by John Bodley, and its occupants 
had a narrow escape. They, in common with other families scattered along 
the valley, fled to the mountain and secreted themselves. 



BURNING OF WAWARSING. 



THIS last attempt of the savages, under the command and by direction of 
British authority, to exterminate the inhabitants of this frontier, 
occurred on the 12th of August, 1781, and was the most extensive invasion 
since the commencement of the war. This expedition was fitted out at one of 
the northern British posts, and put under the command of a white man Ijy the 
name of Caldwell, with explicit directions to commence his assault at Captain 
Andrew Bevier's at Napanock; and to kill or capture all the inhabitants, and 
destroy or carry off all the property along the Kingston road to the half-way 
house kept by the Widow Hasbroucl^. twelve miles northeast of Napanock - 
" if he thought he could get back alive.'* Caldwell was told if he did not carry 
out his instructions, he should be tried for his life on his return. Such is the 
language of the Bevier pamphlet. These allegations, were they not backed by 
testimony rrot to be controverted, would appear to be the creation of sonre fer- 
tile brain to vivify a page of fiction. We leave for other hands the task of 
attempting to excuse or palliate the crinre of , authorizing the slaughter of help- 
less women and children, for a crime it was, though sanctioned b}^ the Crown 
of England. 

It may be well here to state that it was the practice along the frontiers to 
keep out spies or scouts on the side exposed to savage inroads, who were to 



Burjiiitg of Jl d'cL'arsnio: 



I I 



iiatrol the woods and give notice to the settlements in order that they might 
not be taken by sui-prise. Philip Hine was one of those chosen to perform this 
duty. In providing himself with a supi)ly of i)rovisions, he had occasion to 
l)urchase some meat of Jeremiah Kettle, who resided in the vicinity of Newtown. 
Kettle made particular inquiries of Mr. Hine as to where he was going, the 
nature of his business, and the purpose for which he wanted the meat, to which 
the latter made honest replies, not suspecting his interlocutor was a Tory, who 
would find means of commmiicating the information to the Indians. 

Hine, accompanied by another spy named Silas Bouck, started on his 
migratory errand. When they reached the Neversink river, twenty miles or 
more southwest of Xapanock, they discovered a body of four or five hundred 
Indians and Tories, evidently bound on an expedition against some of the fron- 
tier settlements. The scouts watched their progress secretly until certain that 
their place of destination was Wawarsing; they then took a circuitous route, 
and struck the road far in advance of the point where they had seen the enemy. 
The Indians had been apprised by the Tory, Kettle, that spies were out, and were 
on the alert. Discovering some footmarks where Hine and his companion had 
crossed a stream of water, nmners were immediately sent in pursuit, who over- 
took them within half an hour after the latter had entered the road. But there 
seems to have been a providence in this apparent misfortune, and the perfidi 
ousness of Jeremiah Kettle was made the means of saving many precious lives. 

The prisoners were required under pain of death to give a correct account 
of the fortifications and other means of defense along the frontier. Among 
other things they informed their captoi-s that there was a cannon at Capt. 
Bevier's, in Napanock. On account of this intelligence the enemy did not cany 
out their instructions and commence their attack at that i)lace. Some of the 
Indians had probably witnessed the destructive power of grai)eshot and cannon- 
balls in the w^ar of 1755, and had a w^holesome fear of that engine of destruc- 
tion. But they would not have been injured in this case, for the old cannon lay 
on the w^oodpile without a carriage, and was useless for purposes of defense. 
Nevertheless the dismantled field-piece intimidated an enemy five hundred 
sti'ong, and saved Napanock from attack. 

The inhabitants of Napanock never lost sight of their gratitude to that old 
cannon. It was given a carriage, and restored to a condition becoming an 
"arm of war." After peace was declared, at each recurring Independence 
Day, the old nine-pounder was brought out where its presence was sure to 
evoke great enthusiasm, and patriotic hearts beat faster as they voted it the 
position of honor in the procession. Blooming maidens crowned it witli 
"SNTeaths, as did their daughters for successive generations after them. Fourtli 
of July orations bestowed upon it the meed of unbounded praise. And often 
as the sterling patriots met to live over again in memory the struggle of the 
Eevolution, and to march to the sound of fife and drum, arcund tlie Uberty pole 
on the hill at Capt. Simon Be^^er's, amid the strains of martial music was 
heard the roar of the ancient nine-pounder, multiplied into a score of voices in 



yS Legends of the Sliazvangunk. 

the echoes that were hurled back from the sides of old Shawangunk, as though 
the grim old mountain itself had joined in soundiug the paeans of liberty. 

After the captors of Hine and Bouck had obtained all the information they 
wished, the prisoners weie taken apait fiom each other, tied to trees, and left 
in that situation until the Indians returned. Here they were compelled to 
remain for the most part of three days and nights, without anything to eat or 
drink, and liable to attack in their defenseless condition from wild beasts. In 
addition to their physical sufferings were added their well-founded apprehen- 
sions that their Avives and children would fall a prey to the scalping-knife, and 
also that they themselves nn'ght meet with a like fate if the enemy were in an 
irritable mood on their return. 

It had been the intention of the enemy to detach one hundred of their 
number, under the command of Shanks Ben, who were to proceed through 
the forest from the Delaware river to Newtown, to commence the work of 
death there, and meet their comrades at some place in the valley of the Eondout. 
But by an accident which occurred in drying some damaged powder, several of 
their number were burned, among them Shanks Ben, so that he was unable to 
enter upon that service. It is said they made the proposition to Silas Bouck 
that if he would perform that duty, they would grant him his liberty the 
moment he came to Newtown; but the noble-hearted patriot rejected the pro- 
posal with disdain ! 

After securing their prisoners, as above stated, the enemy set forward. 
On that ever- memorable Sabbath, the 12th of August, ITSl, at the dawn of the 
morning, they arrived at the old stone fort at Wawarsing, which was situated 
near the old church. Having taken the spies, no notice had been received at 
the fort of their approach, and most of its occupants were yet in their beds. 
Two men had gone out of the fort that morning,— Mr. Johannis Hornbeck and 
a colored man named Flink. Catherine Vernooey was also about leaving the 
fort to go and milk, when she saw the Indians coming. She returned to the 
fort, closed the door, and called Chambers to assist her in getting the huge 
brace against it. Chambers was stationed on the sentry box at the time, but 
being somewhat deranged, he did not fire his gun. Fortunately, however, he 
sung out " vyand, vyand, " — enemy, enemy. No sooner had the door been 
secured than the Indians came against it with all their might, in order to burst 
it in. Had not the door been secured at that instant, the enemy would inevit- 
ably have gained admittance to the fort, and the fate of its inmates would then 
have been sealed 

The negro, Flink, soon discovered the Indians approaching the fort. He 
concealed himself until he saw they did not obtain an entrance; then leaving 
his milk-pail, he made his way with all possible speed to Napanock, to apprise 
the people there of the arrival of the enemy. Mr. Hornbeck, the other indi 
vidual who had left the fort, was on his way to see his corn-field, and heard the 
alarm when about a mile away. Being a large fleshy man, unable to travel 
fast on foot, he caught a horse and rode with all speed to Eochester. When 



J) It I'm no of H'awai'sing. 79 

lie arrived there, so overcome was he hy excitement and fatigue, that ne fell 
upon the floo^- as one dead. He recovered sufficiently to he ahle to retiuii 
home in the afternoon in company with the troops that were sent in pursuit of 
the Indians. 

The stone fort at Wawarsing was now the scene of active opei-ations. The 
men leaped excitedly from their beds, and, without much regard to dress, seized 
their guns, which were always at hand, and commenced the defense. John 
Griffin was the first who fired, the shot bringing one of the sons of the forest 
to the ground. Another Indian came to remove his fallen comrade, and just 
as he stooped over, Cornelius Yernooey gave him a charge of duck-shot that 
he had intended for a wild duck that came in his mill-pond. The other savages 
hurried them away, and it is probable that both of them were killed. The 
Indians did not fancy the reception they met with here, so they dispersed to the 
more defenseless parts of the neighborhood, to plunder and fire the buildings. 

Peter Yernooey lived about one-fourth of a mile south-east of the fort. 
The Indians made an attack upon his house, but were bravely repulsed l)y the 
garrison, which consisted of three men. On the first advance of the Indians, 
Yernooey shot one from a window in the south-east side of the house. One of 
the men went into the garret, and discovered some savages behind a ledge of 
rocks to the north-east of the dwelling, watching for an opportunity to fire when 
any one came before the port-holes. While he was preparing to shoot at them, 
he saw the flash of their priming — he drew his head back suddenly, and a ball 
just grazed his face. An old hat hanging up in the garret, which the Indians 
supposed contained a man's head, was found to be full of bullet-holes. 

The conduct of the women of this household was worthy the daughters of 
liberty. It appears there were three — Mrs. Peter Yernooey, and two of her 
relatives from I^ackawack, One of them loaded the guns for the men, while 
the others stood with axes to guard the windows, which were fortified with 
blocks of hard wood, Mrs. Yernooey had a family of small children. They 
were lying in a bunk, and became very uproarious at the unusual proceedings 
about them ; but the heroic matron addressed them in language so decided and 
unequivocal that they instantly became quiet. 

At Cornelius Be^'ier's the enemy found none to oppose them. They entered 
the house, built a fii-e on the floor with some of the furniture, and then left the 
premises, taking along a colored woman and two deformed colored boys a short 
distance, until they supposed the flames had olttained sufficient headway, when 
they let them return home. The Avoman and boys went to work and succeeded 
in saving the house. At no time did the Indians appear to wish to kill the 
l)lacks. This was probably because they were slaves, and no bounty was paid 
by the British for their scalps. The Indians regarded the negroes as belonging 
to a race inferior to themselves. 

Tin? next assault was made at Cornelius Dcpuy's, where a few neighbors 
were assembled, as the custom was, for mutual safety and defense. The enemy 
advanced from the hills south-east of the house. The person acting as com- 



8o Legends of tke Shaivangiiiik. 

maiider of this little garrison gave the order not to fire until the Indians came 
quite near; but a lad of sixteen was too full of enthusiasm and patriotic fire to 
await the word of command. He had his old Holland gun well primed, which 
he leveled at one of the redskins, and brought him to the ground at the first, 
discharge. The enemy thereupon fled. A few shots were sent after them, 
with what effect is not known. 

The enemy made their next attack at the stone house of John Kettle, in 
the defense of which the noble conduct of Captain Gerard Hardenburgh is 
deserving of particular notice. At the time of the alarm Capt. Hardenburgh 
was at the house of a relative one mile east of Kettle's with six of his men. 
Notwithstanding the risk, he determined to go to the relief of his countrymen. 
When he came in sight of Kettle's he saw a number of Indians in advance in 
the road. To offer battle with his insignificant force in the open field, would 
be an act of madness. 

There was no time to be lost, however, and all depended on the decision of 
the moment. His active and fertile mind instantly devised a stratagem that 
suited his purpose to perfection. He turned aside into the woods with his little 
band of heroes, so that their number could not be observed by the enemy, took 
off his hat, shouted with all his might, and advanced towards Kettle's house. 
The Indians did not know what to make of this maneuvre. It might mean 
that a company of Tories had come from Newtown to their assistance, and it 
might be that troops were marching up from Pine Bush to the relief of the 
settlement; the savages took the safe course and skulked in every direction. 
This gave the Captain time to reach the house. At that moment the Indians, 
who had discovered the ruse, poured a shower of bullets at them; but the brave 
heroes escaped unhurt. The besieged broke holes through the rear of the 
house with an axe, and also through the roof, for port-holes, through which 
they poured an effective fire upon their assailants. Hardenburgh found the 
house occupied by three soldiers and a son of John Kettle. The Indians made 
repeated assaults in force on this fortress, but were as often driven back with 
loss. Thirteen of their number were left dead on the field. John Kettle was 
at Hei'honkson at the time of the attack. Jacobus Bruyn had removed with 
his family over the Shawangunk mountain through fear of the Indians, and 
Kettle had gone up to Bruyn's premises to see that all was well. He started to 
go to the fort at Pine Bush, but was met in the road by an advance-guard of 
the savages, and shot. His was not the only scalp tlie Indians secured in this 
expedition. 

While these events were transpiring at Wawarsing, the forts at Napanock 
and Pine Bush were the scenes of intense interest and suspense. When the 
firing ceased for a moment, the affrighted inhabitants were ready to conclude 
that the beleaguered garrison had been overpowered, and that the savages were 
engaged in mangling and scalping the bodies of their friends and brethren. 
Then again would be heard the report of one of the Holland guns, which could 
be plainly distinguished from the sharp crack of the light arms of the Indians, 



Burning of JJ^tucars/ng. 8i 

tt'lling that the patriots yet lived, and were waging a heroic defense for their 
homes. The rattle of musketry in the first attack on Wawarsing was heartl at 
Pine Bush; and as it was unlawful to fire a gun on the Sahhath, except in 
self-defense, or as an alarm, it was known that the place was attacked. Alarm 
guns were immediately fired at Pine Bush, at ]\Iillliook, and so along the 
frontier towards Kingston. 

Colonel John Cantine, of Marhletown, was then first in conmiand at Pine 
Bush. Capt. Burnet, of Little Britain, and Capt, Benjamin Kortright, of 
Rochester — both brave and resolute officers— had their companies ready at an 
early hour, anxious to proceed to the scene of conflict; but Colonel Cantine 
made no move to that effect. When the flames of the burning buildings were 
seen ascending in the lower part of Wawarsing, the captains addressed him as 
follows: — " How can you remain here, when, in all probability, the Indians are 
murdering our friends at Wawarsing?'' There, and not till then, did he i)ut 
the troojjs in motion to go to their relief. He sent a guard in advance; and 
when they amved at the site of the Middleport school-house, the guard 
returned and told the Colonel that the Indians were at Herhonkson. Cantine 
immediately wheeled about, and with a few others, marched back to the fort. 
Cai)tains Burnet and Kortright advanced with their companies to the summit 
of the hill, south-west of the school-house, in order to confront the enemy if they 
should advance, at the same time making the greatest possible show of num- 
bers by deploying their men along the brow of the hill, then wheeling suddenly 
and marching again to the sunnuit, where they might be seen by the enemy. 
The Indians not making their appearance, and apprehensive that they might 
take a circuitous route and pass them unnoticed, Burnet and Kortriglit I'eturned 
to Pine Bush. At their suggestion Colonel Cantine ordered out a guard some 
distance from the fort on each side to watch the movements of the enemy and 
protect the women and children below the fort. 

As already stated, the negro Fhnk escaped from the Wawareing fort as the 

Indians attacked the place, and ran with aU speed to Napanock. Capt. Pierson 

was in command at that place; and although suffering from indisposition, he 

left his bed, stepped out in front of the fort, and called for volunteers. He said 

he did not want a man to go that would not face the enemy, and fight like a 

hero. He was solicited by the women and others to remain for their jirotection, 

but he replied that he was bound by his official oath to go where the enemy 

was. Conradt Bevier and Jacobus DeWitt, and some ten or twelve othei*s, 

tendered their services, and the httle ])and set forward. When they came to 

the school-house, half a mile from the fort at Xapanock. they found it in tiames 

— no doubt fired by the Indians. They earned water in their hats and saved 

the building. They then cautiously advanced over the lowland until they came 

in sight of Wawarsing. At this time, an Indian sentinel who had been 

stationed on a hill to give notice of the arrival of reinforcements to the ganison, 

fired off his gim, which caused the Indians to withdraw farther from tlie fort. 

Those within now made signals for Captain Pierson and his men to approach 
6 



82 Lege7tds of the Shawangunk. 

and enter. To do this the relief party were obliged to pass over an open space 
exposed to the shots of the enemy; but the undertaking was accomplished in 
perfect safety. Encouraged by this addition to their numbers, the besieged 
came out, and fought the Indians from beliind trees, buildings, and whatever 
objects afforded protection, after the Indian fashion. 

In the meantime the Indians entered the church, and amused themselves 
by throwing their tomahawk at the numbers, which, according to the castom 
of the times, were placed on the panels of the pulpit to designate the psalm or 
hymn to be sung. These figures served as targets to throw at. With such 
force were the missiles sent that two or three tomahawks were driven entirely 
through the panels. This injury was never repaired, but w^as suffered to remain 
as a memorial of the past. Two Indians were standing in the church-door, and 
Wm. Bodly and Conradt Bevier crept along the f.ence in the bush to get a shot 
at them. Bevier leveled his piece and pulled the trigger, but it unfortunately 
snapped. The Indian looked around as though he heard it. Bevier made a 
second attempt, and again it snapped. Bodly then fired, and both ran for the 
fort about one-fourth of a mile away. The Indians sent some shots after 
them, one of the balls cutting a limb from an apple-tree under which Bevier 
w^as passing. Bodly's shot struck in the door-post, just grazing the crowai of 
the Indian's head. Long after the war a man by the name of DeWitt was in 
the w^estern part of New York and spoke with the Indian who met with so 
narrow an escape at the church-door. The Indian, on learning that DeWitt 
was from Wawarsing, enquired if he knew who it w^as that shot at him while 
standing in the church-door. DeWitt told him it was William Bodly. The 
Indian answered—" It w^as a good shot. If I ever meet that man I will treat 
him well." This incident illustrates a trait in the character of a " warrior.'' 

Towards noon, when most of the Indians were in the lower part of th-^ 
town, Cornehus Bevier went to water his cattle, accompanied by Jacobus 
DeWitt. They had ascended the hill toward the old burying-ground, when 
they discovered tw^o Indians w^alking directly from them in Indian file. Bevier 
thought he could shoot them both at once, but just as he got ready to fire, one 
of them stepped aside. He shot one of the Indians and then both men ran for 
the fort. In passing under an apple-tree, DeWitt stumbled and fell; just at 
the instant a shot from the surviving Indian passed over his head. DeWitt ever 
afterward felt he owed his escape to an interposition of Providence. The 
Indian's body was subsequently found near the place- He had put on new 
moccasins and other extra apparel during the period intervening between the 
time of his receiving the fatal wound and the moment of his death, as though 
preparing himself for the final change that was to transport him to the happy 
hunting-grounds . 

The people at the fort saw an Indian going with a firebrand to set fire to a 
dwelling-house occupied by some of the Hornbeck family. Benjamin Hornbeck 
loaded one of the long Holland guns, and tried the effect of a shot upon the 
miscreant. The ball struck a stone on the hill, and bounded against the Indian 



Biirniiif^ of Waioarsiiig. 8 



o 



who ininiediately dropped the firebrand, gave a tremendous leap, and ran like a 
deer for the woods. This single shot was the means of saving that house from 
the general conflagration of that eventful day. 

The old neighborhood of Wawarsiiig on that Sabbath morning must have 
been a scene of sublime grandeur. Thirteen substantial dwelUng-houses, with 
their outbuildings, fourteen barns with barracks, stacks of hay and grain, and 
one grist-mill, were all enveloped in flames— no one being able to offer any 
resistance to their raging fury. The houses were stored with the articles 
requisite for the comforts and conveniences of civiUzed life — the products of 
the industry of many years; and the bai-ns had just been filled with a plenteous 
harvest. The Indians remained all that day in the vicinity, i)illaging the houses, 
driving off the stock, and securing whatever plunder they thought would be of 
service to them. Between sixty and seventy horses, most of them very fine, 
and a great number of cattle, sheep and hogs, were driven off. The Indians 
took some ground plaster as far as Grahamsville, supposing it to be flour, and 
attempted to make bread of it. At Esquire Hardenburgh's they fared sumptu- 
ously. They took some huckleberry pies, of which there was a goodly stock on 
hand, l)roke them up in tubs of sweet milk, and then devoured them. Had not 
the Indians devoted so much of their attention to plunder, they might have 
secured more scalps. Some of the inhabitants who had concealed themselves 
in the bushes along the fences, met with narrow escapes when the Indians came 
to drive the cattle from the fields; they threw little sticks and stones to drive 
the animals away from their places of concealment. 

When the Indians were preparing to leave the place a personage of no 
ordinary rank and pretension was seen emerging from the woods into the high- 
way near the old church. His appearance was truly imjtosing. He was 
mounted on a superb horse that had been stolen from Esquire Hardenburgh, 
and was arrayed in gorgeous apparel, according to Indian notions. He had 
silver bands about liis arms, and over forty silver brooches were suspended about 
the i)erson of his majesty. He was discovered by some soldiers who were 
watching to get a parting shot at the enemy as they were leaving the town, 
and one of them named Mack fired upon the chief. The latter was seen to reel 
in his saddle, but some other Indians turned his horse into the woods, and he was 
lost to view for a time. Afterwards Cornelius found his cori)se in the woods 
near the place where he was shot, witli the ornaments and trinkets still upon 
him. It is i)rol)able that the loss of this chief did much to intimidate the In- 
dians and hasten their retreat. 

In tlie coui'se of Sunday afternoon, Capt. Pawling came u}) with some State 
troops from Hurley in time to relieve some of the inhabitants. There was a 
cabin in the woods situated in advance of the others, in which lived a man 
and his wife. At the first ai)pearance of the foe, they fled into their castle, and 
gave battle to a party of savages who came up to attack them. The house was 
well supplied with arms, and while his wife loaded the guns he poured such a 
destnictive fire into the midst of his fues, that they soon recoiled with loss. 



84 Legends of the Shawangunk. 

Baffled in their attempts to force an entrance, they collected a lieap of combus- 
tibles and set fire to the premises. The savages then retired a short distance to 
watch the result. The man ran out with a couple of buckets, procured water, 
and with it extinguished the flames. The Indians ran down upon him, but not 
being quick enough to prevent his gaining the door, they hurled their toma- 
hawks at his head — happily without effect. Pawling's force being augmented 
by Col. Cantine's troops of Rochester and those of the garrison at Wawarsing, 
the little army amounted to about four hundred men. They lodged at the 
Wawarsing stone fort Sunday night and early the next morning set out in 
pursuit of the enemy. 

When they came to Grahanisville they saw where the Indians had lodged 
the night before, and where they had attempted to make bread out of ground 
plaster. Towards night the pursuers arrived at Peenpack, along the Delaware, 
when the advance-guard returned and informed the officers that they had come 
to a fire of small sticks, and that the sticks were not burned through This 
was evidence that the Indians could not be far in advance. It having been pro- 
posed to double the advance-guard, Captain Kortright offered to go with his 
whole company. While a consultation was going on among the officers, a gun 
in the hands of Dr. Vanderlyn, of Kingston, was discharged. The report 
alarmed the enemy; the Indians of the party instantly fled in small squads, 
leaving their white commander Caldwell alone with the Tories and the scouts, 
Hine and Bouck, whom they had released on their return march and were con- 
ducting to Niagara. At this place large packages of spoils, including quantities 
of clothing, were left by the Indians in the confusion of their hasty flight; but 
they were not found by the whites until several months afterwards. A council 
of war was held to determine whether to advance or retreat, at which it was 
resolved to give up the pursuit and return home. Capt. Hardenburgh and some 
othei'S were anxious to pursue, but Col. Cantine opposed it. Capt. Hardenburgh, 
vexed at what he considered Cantine's somewhat questionable prudence, observed 
to his Colonel that " he could not die before his time; " to which the latter repHed 
that if the Indians held a tomahawk above his head his time would be then 
and there. 

A German by the name of Vrooman deserted the Indians on Honk hill, 
while Wawarsing was in flames. He had been with them three years; and 
becoming tired of his allegiance, he left his gun at a distance and approached 
the troops, making signs of peace. Some of the soldiers wished to kill him, but 
this was not permitted. From this man much of the matter embraced in this 
narrative was obtained. Vrooman said the invading horde was a party from 
Niagara, and that they consumed more than a month on their journey to 
Wawarsing. During this time they were so much distressed for want of pro- 
visions that they ate up their pack-horses and dogs He reported that the 
garrison at Niagara was in a melancholy situation for want of provisions, and 
that the Tories there most bitterly execrated the day that they were deluded by 
a tyrant's emissaries to take up arms against their native country. It is said 



Burning of Wawarsing. 85 

that the efficiency of the Indians at the descent upon Wawarsing was greatly 
impaired by reason of their previous privations, and from eating the soft corn 
they had taken from the corn-fields at Wawarsing. The squaws met them, on 
their return to Niagara, with parched corn. 

The commander of the expedition, Caldwell, was now in a sore strait. He 
had failed in the main object of his expedition — the taking of prisoners and 
scalps. He was forsaken by his Indian guides, while hundreds of miles of 
trackless forest intervened between him and his base of suppUes; and he was 
menaced by a foe greatly outnumbering his own force who were close at his 
heels, exasperated beyond measure at his work of devastation, and anxious to 
wreak vengeance upon the destroyer of their homes. Had Cantine advanced 
instead of retreating, Caldwell's diminished forces would have fallen an easy 
jDrey, and a large portion of the spoils would have been recovered. 

Caldwell was now in a measure dependent upon the magnanimity of the 
scouts, Philip Hine and Silas Bouck. The latter agreed to pilot the party 
through to Niagara on condition that CaldweU would do all in his power to save 
him from running the gauntlet when they arrived at the fort. When they 
reached that post, Hine proi)osed allegiance to the British Cro^\^l; and was per- 
mitted to have some liberty, and went on an expedition with the British troops 
against Troy. It does not appear that he participated in any engagement against 
the Americans. One tradition is that he came back after peace was restored; 
another says that he escaped under pretense of going on a hunting expedition. 
At all events he lived to return to his friends who had mourned him as dead. 

Silas Bouck, his brother scout, was taken to Montreal, put into a log jail, 
in company with two other prisoners, and furnished with a scanty supply of 
pipvisions, even those being of the filthiest and meanest kind. In tliis extremity 
the three prisoners set about devising some means of escape. 

They succeeeded in raising up one of the boards of the floor, and with the 
help of an old knife dug a hole under the side of the building. In the day time 
they lay stiU; at night they dug, carefuUy concealing the dirt under the floor, 
and replacing the board before morning. Having some reason to apprehend 
the time of execution was at hand, and a dark night favoring, they made their 
exit through the sul)terraneous passage, and entered the St. Lawrence. Bouck 
was ahead. They had not gone far before one of his companions cried out that 
he was sinking. But no assistance could be afforded — each had work for him- 
self. When Hearing the opposite side a similar cry was heard from the other. 
Before reaching the shoi-e Bouck too began to grow weak, and he feared he 
should meet the fate of his companions. He thought he miglit touch the hot 
tom, but was afraid to try. At last he attempted and f(»und it was not beyond 
liis depth; and after reaching the beach he made his ^vay into the wilderness 
without knowing where he was going. 

At length morning came. The sun rose, and ])y that he shaped his 
course ^^'ith more certainty. Never were the benignant rays of that luminary 
more welcome to a traveler tliaii on this occasion. Soon hunger began to 



86 Legends of the Shawangunk. 

torture Hint's already emaciated frame. He saw a rattlesnake in his path. 
Fortunately he had preserved his pocket-knife, with which he cut a crotched 
stick and put it over the neck of the snake, and then cut off its head. This 
snake he dressed and ate raw. This appeased the appetite for a while, when 
hunger again began to pinch him hard. 

As he was pursuing his journey he came in sight of a small house. He 
watched it closely, and ascertained that its occupants consisted of two persons 
only— a man and his wife. He resolved to wait until the man should leave the 
house, when he would rush in, kill the woman, get some provisions and be off. 
He did not have to wait long for the opportunity. The moment he entered the 
door the woman cried out — " You are a deserter ! " Some bread and meat lay 
on the table, which she told him to take and be off or he was a dead man; 
for there was a large body of Indians near by, and that her husband had gone 
to them. He took the bread and meat and fled with all haste into the woods, 
and crawled into a hollow log. He had been there but a short time when he 
heard the Indians traversing the forest in search of him. In the night he 
came out of the log, and resumed his journey. After enduring a degree of 
suffering seldom equalled, he arrived at Catskill, on the Hudson, about fourteen 
months after he was taken prisoner. 

The freemen of Rochester, Ulster county, were assembled at a public -house 
to transact some business of a patriotic nature. The long and bloody war with 
Great Britain was drawing to a happy termination, and every jDatriot's pulse beat 
high with the prospect of domestic peace and national glory. While in the 
midst of their rejoicing, a person was discovered in the distance having the 
appearance of a way-worn traveler. As the stranger approached some one 
hinted that his step was like the stride of Silas Bouck. They had long supposed 
him dead— still he might be alive. They were not long in suspense. The joy- 
ful news resounded through the assembly that Bouck was coming, and with 
one simultaneous rush they ran to meet him. They could scarcely believe the 
evidence of their own eyes. They caught him up, and carried him into the 
house, while the air resounded with their shouts of joy. It was a reunion such 
as is seldom witnessed. After the trials of a protracted and bloody war, they 
were now to enjoy, in common, the dearly bought boon of liberty. 

On the return of the Indians to Niagara it was ascertained that eighteen of 
their number were missing. One of the absent Indians, however, returned late 
in the fall, having driven a cow all the way, and lived on the milk. 




MOUNT HOPE MASTODON. 



Korti'ii^Jif s Expi'dilio7i. "^-j 



KORTRIGHT'S EXPEDITION. 

DrrJIXG the Revolution three iiu-n were hving, with their faniiHes, in the 
vicinity of Pine Bush, in the town of Rochester, named Shurker, Millei-, 
nnd Baker. Shurker had been suspected of being a Tory. A Whig neighbor 
had once intimated asmucli to liini, personally; but Shurker denied the charge, 
and made the strongest attestations of fidelity to the cause of libcrtv. This 
conversation was overheard l)y the Toiies, and l)y them connnunicated t<j tlie 
Indians. Living thus on the outpost, these people had the strongest tempta- 
tions to keep the good will of the enemy, in order to save their lives and 
piioperty, though at heart they were Whigs. 

One morning, at early dawn, the alarm of "Indians" w\as heard at the 
military posts at Pine Bush. The report of firearms rent the air; and in the 
t^^ilight, flames were seen ascending from the doomed buildings in awful 
grandeui- to the heavens, telling, in unequivocal terms, that the destroyers were 
there. Capt. Benjamin Kortright, who knew not what fear was, marshalled 
his band and marched to the scene of action. When they came in sight, tliey 
saw the enemy were already retii-ing. They halted a moment to extinguish the 
flames of a burning building, where they found Shurker with his brains dashed 
out. While the whites were at this place the Indians fired a volley on the hill 
near by. After putting out the fire, they pursucnl the enemy. When they 
came on the hill, they found Miller, literally perforated with bullet-holes. It is 
remai'kable that the women and children were nt)t molested on this occasion; 
the most reasonable exjilanation is that a large proportion of the enemy w^ere 
Tories; and that there may have been some ties of relationship or affinity that 
restrained them in this instance fi-om their usual barbaiity. 

Cai)t. Kortright .continued the pursuit until they came to Verne )()ey creek; 
then their provisions being exhausted, they returned to Pine Bush. On their 
w^ay they buried the unfortunate Shurker and Miller, wdio fell martyrs to the 
cause of liberty. The fate of Baker is wi-apped in impenetrable mystery. 
Nothing more was ever heard of him. He was the l)ravest and most muscular 
man of the three. It is probable he was reserved by the Indians as the object 
on which to wreak their vengeance in return for the three savages killed by 
Anderson. 

At the time of this massacre a body of three bundled ti()0])s were stationed 
at the Fort on Honk hill. The ofificer in command, on being informed of the 
above facts, resolved to fit out an expedition to waylay the Indians on their 
return at the Chestnut woods, now known as Grahamsville, al)out thirteen 
miles from Napanock. The officer called out for vohmteei's, and John Graham 
stepped from the rauks. He w^as asked bow many men he woidd have, to 
which he answered that he would take no nioie than " his honor" gave him, 



88 Legends of tJie Shawaitgiuik. 

which was a sergeant's guard, and consisted of eighteen men and a sergeant 
and corporal. He was offered more men, but refused to take them. One of 
Graham's party was Abraham Van Campen, a noted hunter and expert Inchan 
fighter. The others were from the old settlements east of the Shawangunk 
mountain, and unused to border warfare. 

Graham's company marched on immediately, and reached the Chestnut 
woods in advance of the enemy He selected his position where the Chestnut 
brook enters the Papacton creek. At this place the hiUs form a triangle, and 
there is a space of nearly level ground at the junction of the streams. Here he 
resolved to remain and surprise the Indians if they came that way, in the mean- 
time dispatching Van Campen to procure some fresh venison. Before he 
returned, the Indians came, discovered the plot of the whites, and Jiiade their 
dispositions for attack. 

One Indian only was sent forward in the regular path in front of the little 
garrison; all the rest had approached unobserved, and occupied elevations on 
every side, where they were securely posted behind tree-trunks, with their 
fingers on the triggers of their guns awaiting the signal of death from their 
leader. Graham had just been very deliberately taking a drink from a rivulet 
near his camp; and as he rose, he saw an Indian in the path and directed his 
men to fire. Just as they aimed, the Indian fell upon his face, and the balls 
whistled harmlessly over his head. The next instant he was again ui)on his 
feet, and disappeared among the bushes as a murderous volley was poured into 
Graham's men from every side. Only two men, beside Van Campen, escaped, 
who made the best of their way back to the fort to carry the news of the 
massacre. Never was a flock of wild birds more effectually and skillfully taken 
in a fowler's net. History does not record the name of the leader of the Indians, 
but the generalship exhibited in the affair leaves little doubt that he was the 
celebrated Colonel Brant. 

It was thought necessary to send a force of three hundred men to bury the 
dead. When the detachment arrived the bodies were falling to pieces from 
putrefaction, and were so offensive that the work of burial was with difficulty 
performed. They found them all scalped, and divested of every article that 
could be of any use; but their persons were not mangled as was frequently the 
case, with the exception of Graham's, which some declare M'as disemboweled. 
The bodies were buried in ti'enches on the spot where they fell. The troops had 
considerable sport with one of the men who escaped. During his hasty flight, 
in jumping across a brook, his bayonet had stuck into the ground, and he had 
left his gun, not taking time to pull it out. It was found to be loaded and all 
the cartridges were in the box; so it was evident that he had not once fired his 
piece. 

Some years since a party came to the Chestnut woods to ascertain the 
precise si)ot where the unfortunate slain were laid. They did not succeed, 
though some were then living w]io could point to the exact location. Quinlan 
says that the burial-place of Graham and his men is a short distance back of the 



Andersoji and Ostcrhoiit. 89 

old school-house near tho Juik 1 ion of Chestnut hrook and the Papacton. A lad 
named Paul Benson, in company with two other boys, were constructing a dam 
across the brook, when they dug up some bones. These they took to Xeil 
Benson, wdio pronounced them human bones, and ordered the boys to take them 
back. This so terrified them tliat they ran off, leaving the bones witli 
Mr. Benson. Quinlan adds that a log, that was cut on the battle-ground, wneu 
saw^ed into Imiiber, was found to contain eight bullets. 



ANDERSON AND OSTERHOUT. 

JUST before the beginning of the Revolution, there was a tavern kept at 
Lackawack by a widow lady. This was frequented by Indians as wt^II as 
white men. The widows had a son by her first husband, whose name was 
Caleb Osterhout. Either Caleb or a friend of his, George Anderson, had at one 
time offended the Indians by advising her not to sell them any more liquor, 
and the latter determined on revenge. Awaiting a favorable opportunity 
Avhen these men were both at this tavern over night, some Indians entered, 
took them prisoners, and carried them off in triumi)h. While the struggle 
was g<3ing on, the woman fled from the house with no other covering than 
her night clothes; she was out all night in the woods and in a shower of rain. 
The next day she made her way to Waw-arsing and gave the alarm, when a 
party was sent off in pursuit. 

George Anderson could understand the Indian dialect, and he gathered from 
their conversation that they had determined to scalp Osterhout, as he w^as in 
poor health and not able to travel fast. They said his scalp would fetch more 
than he w^ould l)e worth alive. Anderson made known this decision to his 
C()mi)anion. and endeavored to nerve him to the point of making a desperate 
effort to escape. That night, providentially, an opportunity offered. The 
Indians had partaken of theii- supper, secured the prisonei-s for the night, and 
had lain down by the side of the camp-fire. A knife had been accidentally 
dropped by the savages, which Anderson surrei)titiously covered with leaves. 
The knife was missed, and search was made for it; but not finding it readily 
the search w^as given up. Fatigued by the day's march, the Indians were soon 
wi-apped in a deep sleep. 

This was their opportunity. By the faint light of the flickering embers, 
Anderson found the knife and cut the thongs that bound his fellow- prisoner, 
and was in turn freed from his fastenings; the next tiling was to disj)atch the 
Indians, and each took a hatchet and prepared for the work. Anderson com- 
menced, but he was in such haste that he only partially stunned his first 
victim, who rose up and fell into the fire. His next blow killed the second 
Indian instantly. Osterhout had failed in his attem])t u])on the third Indian, 



Qo Legends of the Shazvangiuik. 

and Anderson crossed over to the other side of the fire and dispatched him. In 
the meantime Osterhout had pulled the first Indian out of the fire, instead of 
kilhng him. His conduct can only be explained in that he was, for the mo- 
ment, unnerved and excited by the circumstances in which they were situated. 
Two squaws were with the Indians; they were awakened by the noise, ran 
off and made the woods resound with their frantic yells. 

One tradition of this event says, it was agreed between Osterhout and 
Anderson that the former should kill the squaws and the latter the Indians. 
Could this have been effected, it would have rendered the position of the white 
men more secure. As it was, they were well aware the squaws would waste 
no time in informing other Indians who were lurking in the vicinity. They 
would soon be upon their track like veritable bloodhounds; and should they be 
so unfortunate as to fall into the hands of the savages after having murdered 
three of their number, they were well aware that the most fearful torture that, 
savage ingenuity could invent would speedily be visited upon them. 

Incited by this reflection to the most strenuous efforts, and encouraged by 
what they had abeady accomplished, they speedily made their proparations for 
returning home. They fii'st appropriated the provisions of the slaughtered 
Indians, and other articles that might prove useful to them in their journey. 
As their route lay through an unbroken wilderness, traversed by bands of 
hostile Indians, the utmost circumspection was necessary on the part of the 
escaping captives. - 

Osterhout was naturally a timid man, and of weak constitution, and was 
totally unfitted for such rough experience as they were undergoing. Their 
escape depended mostly on Anderson's vigilance and perseverance. Their 
movements were necessarily slow, each day's journey being limited by Oster- 
hout's rapidly failing strength. Their scanty supply of provisions was soon 
exhausted, and hunger added its tortures to their sufferings. They had arms 
and ammunition, but they dare not fire at any game for fear of being heard by 
Indians. One day they came upon a horse which had been turned into the 
woods; this animal they kiUed with a spear, and cutting the flesh from the 
thighs devoured it raw. They were obliged to avoid the usual route, and often 
found it necessary to secrete themselves during the day and travel only at night, 
m order to escajje the vigilance of the Indians. On one occasion they were so 
hard pressed that Anderson was obliged to swim a river with his companion on 
his back. 

After untold suffering they came to a stockade fort at Honk hill, at which 
lived a man named Timmerman. When provisions were set before them 
Osterhout was fed like a child. Anderson had self-control sufficient to care for 
himself. Osterhout survived the shock but a short time, when he was num- 
bered with his fathers. 

I he conduct of George Anderson subsequent to this event became very 
eccentric. The streng-th and vigor of his intellect seemed to have vanished ; 
we can no longer contemplate him as the brave and undaunted hero. This 



Polly Tidd. 



91 



was no doubt the result of physical disease, brought on by the excessive fatigue 
and hardship of his captivity and escape. . He ai)peared to be constantly 
apprehensive of some imminent danger, the result of a mental derangement. 
He left AVawarsing, wandered on the Shawangunk mountain, and took up his 
a])ode iji a cavern in the eastern slope. From this lonely retreat he would sally 
fortli in the night, and indulge in petty thieving, by which means he supplied 
liis i)liysical necessities. He became a pest to the peoi)le, but they forbore to 
punish him out of consideration for his misfortunes, as they were aware he was 
not morally responsible for his acts. 



POLLY TIDD. 

ON one of the roads leading from Pecksville to Stormville, in Duchess 
county, there is yet standing an unpretentious dwelling-house in which, 
many years ago, lived a family whose history is associated with a startling 
tragedy. The incidents are but faintly outlined in the memories of even the 
oldest inhabitants of the neighborhood; still there are a few who have a distinct 
recollection of hearing the older settlers tell of the lonely life and eccentricities 
of Polly Tidd, the last survivor of this unfortunate family. 

In this house, some years prior to the Revolution, there lived a ^v ell-to-do 
farmer by the name of Solomon Tidd. His family consisted of a wife, tAvo 
daughters nearly grown, and an only son about ten years of age. One day in 
early autumn, Solomon and his wife drove down to Fislikill village to dispose of 
some farm produce, and to make some necessary purchases for the family, 
leaving the boy and his sisters at home. On their return from the village, 
while passing through a piece of woods about a mile from the house, their old 
horse, '* Roan, "" began to prick up his ears, and to accelerate his pace in a way 
that he had not been known to do in years. " Some painter or bear, likely, 
snooping in the bushes, for there can't be no Ingins about," said Solomon, by 
way of accounting for the strange behavior of their family horse. 

" Hark, did not some one call ? " cried out Mrs. Tidd, wlio was not a little 
frightened at tlie idea of the i)0ssible proximity of a panther oi' bear. 

" Seems to jne I did hear smithin," answered Solomon, '' but guess I must 
have been mistaken. Old Roan thinks there's some varmint around that he 
don't like, tlioLigh, and I don't care how soon we get out of this. So do your 
best. Roan "—continued the old man to his usually sedate roadster, who had 
quickened his pace into a gallop. 

" Where are the children," cried Mrs. Ti Id in alarm as she entered the door, 
breathless from her breakneck ride, only to find the house emi)ty, and no one 
within call. "Could it be they'd be foolish enough to come down the road to 
meet us, and got caught by a painter?" And tlie good old lady shuddered 
at the thought. 



92 Legends of the Shawangunk. 

" Xo, I guess not," said her husband, yet there was a tremor in his voice 
that showed he, too, had misgivings. 

' ' And Harry was so anxious for his new shoes and the girls for their plaid 
frocks! I wonder why they're not here," soliloquized Mrs. Tidd. And then 
glancing at the table, " Well I declare if they haven't eat up all my fruit-cake, 
and broke open my best jar of presarves ! 'Pears like as though they'd had the 
whole neighborhood to dinner. But where on "arth are they gone to ? They 
wouldn't have started for wintergreens up in the back pasture, would they ? " 
But the father was too much absorbed in his own thoughts to give heed to her 
queries. 

As hour after hour passed, and the missing ones were not found, the 
parents became seriously alarmed. Word was sent to their neighbors, none of 
whom had seen the children, and the whole settlement volunteered to search 
for them. Night closed in, bat no tidings. Torches were now procured, and 
their gleaming could be seen along the mountain side borne in the hands of 
sympathizing friends, whose voices sounded strangely upon the night air as they 
hallooed the names of the wanderers, and shouted to one another as they prose- 
cuted their search. Morning came and the news spread far and wide. Hen 
and boys of neighboring towns assembled, and that day hundreds were engaged 
in beating the woods for miles in every direction. But all was of no avail; it 
became evident that farther search was useless. 

Tlie mother became almost frantic at her loss. Indeed it seemed for awhile 
that her reason would be dethroned; but in time the more violent paroxysms of 
her grief wore away, and she fell into a state of settled melancholy. Years 
passed, and Solomon Tidd and his wife were laid to rest in the graveyard on 
the mountain side, in utter ignorance to the last of the nature of the calamity 
that had rendered them childless. 

When Solomon and his wife had been gone from home about an hour on 
the day of the children's disappearance, a gentle tap was heard at the door. 
Polly, the elder of the girls, was about to open it, when her sister Esther 
stopped her, and asked " Who's there?" "A friend," was the response. 
Esther quickly detected a peculiar accent m the voice, and would have bolted 
the door; but her purpose was diverted by the more persistent Polly, when they 
were confronted by two Indians, The latter entered and asked for food ; when 
the frightened children set before them the best the house afforded. While 
eating, the savages enquired in broken Enghsh where their father and mother 
were; and the girls, unused to the arts of diplomacy, gave honest answers to 
their questions. At this the Indians were observed to exchange significant 
glances; and as they rose to go, informed the children that they were to accom- 
pany them. The lad, terrified beyond measure, set up a cry; when he received 
a blow from the larger Indian that sent him reeling to the floor. The savage 
then brandished a knife and said. " Me kill, if you don't stop noise I " 

The Indians now manifested the utmost haste. They fairly urged their 
captives into a run across the open field opposite the house, nor did they slacken 



Polly Tidd. 



93 



their pace until they gained the covert of the woods. The path along which they 
were going led not far from the highway. Presently they heard the rumble of 
a wagon, and the children recognized the voice of their father as he encouraged 
his frightened horse. At this juncture the lad essayed to oiy out " Father ! " 
but the word was broken off in mid -utterance by a blow on the head from the 
nearest Indian, which stretched the little fellow apparently lifeless upon the 
ground. When the sound of the wheels died away some leaves were hastily 
strewn over the lad, and the flight down the mountain path resumed. Presently 
the noise of rapid footsteps was heard behind them, and the party turned to 
behold the boy, who had recovered consciousness and kicked away the leaves; 
and, terrified at being left alone in the woods, had unwittingly inin into the 
power of the worst enemy that he could have encountered, Xo harm was 
offered the lad, but he was given to iniderstand if he made another outcry he 
should be killed. 

Being so far from the river, the Indians knew their own safety depended 
on the speed of their flight. One savage in advance, the other in the rear, with 
tlie captives in single file between — the strength of the children was tested to 
the utmost. It became evident as they progressed that tlie boy could not keep 
pace with them; and he was taken aside, his brains dashed out with a toma- 
hawk, the body thrown into a cleft of rocks for the woNes and ravens to 
devoui', and the flight resumed. 

In due time the savages with their captives reached their village at the base 
of the Shawangunk mountain. Here Polly and Esther were formally adopted 
into two Indian families that had each been recently bereaved of a daughter, and 
they were set at Avork gathering corn, collecting fuel, and other menial drudgery 
of the Indian women. In this way a year or more passed; and the girls were 
blooming into womanhood. The fair face of Esther had attracted the notice of 
a young brave, and he sought her hand in marriage after the manner of court 
ship in vogue with his tribe. On two successive evenings he presented Inmself 
at the wigwam where Esther lived, partook of the food offered by her hands, 
and rechned on the couch of skins. But Esther, while she extended the usual 
courtesy required by the rules of Indian hospitality, was so far unversed in 
savage wooing as not to understand how she was to signify her accei)tance. 
The succeeding day Esther was set at work to gather sticks, a hint designed to 
intimidate her to accept his matrimonial advances, though she understood not 
its puriH)!^. Tliat evening her swarthy suitor again i)resented himself at lier 
door, di-essed in his best deerskins, and received as before the hospitality of her 
wigwam. Her non-comphance with Indian custom was interpreted as a rejec- 
tion of his suit, and the savage departed next morning crest-fallen. 

This was an affront to the tribe that nnist not be allowed to go unpunished. 
A captive white woman had refused tlie hand of one of their bravest warriors ! 
Esther was told to array herself in her best apparel, and innocent of giving any 
intentional offense, and with not the faintest suspicion of the fate that awaited 
her, she was led a short distance into tlie forest where she found the viUage 



Q4 Legends of the Shawangunk. 

assembled. There she was tied to a stake, the wood she had gathered on the 
previous day was piled about her, and she was told that she must die. 

" Let me first speak to my sister," were the last audible words she uttered; 
but the request was not granted, for Polly had been taken away so that the 
screams of her ill-fated relative cotdd not reach her . 

Some months afterward a young warrior by the name of Wawonda came 
to the wigwam where Poll}^ lived as a suitor for her hand. She received him 
with respectful cordiality, and the next evening he came again, remaining a 
guest as before, and departing with the dawn. That day Polly was set at work 
gathering sticks. As she was thus engaged a friendly squaw approached and 
inquired if she knew what she was gathering those sticks for. She replied she 
did not. " Did not Wawonda visit the wigwam of the pale-face last night ? " 
" He did, " was the reply. " And did he not come the night before ? " " Yes, " 
was Polly's answer. " Well," continued the woman, "Wawonda wants pale- 
face to keep his wigwam and dry his venison. He will come again to night. 
If pale-face acce])ts him all will be well; if not. to-morrow these sticks will be 
used to burn her at the stake as was burned her sister Esther for refusing 
Wanoni ! " When Wawonda presented himself for the third time at the wig- 
wam of the captive, he was accepted as an acknowledged suitor according to the 
custom of the tribe, and thus was Polly duly installed at the head of the domestic 
affairs of Wawonda' s household. 

Years rolled by. Polly had heard naught of her relatives since the day of 
her capture. Though living in sight of her native mountains she was for a long 
time too closely watched for a successful attempt at escape. Two half-breed 
boys were added to her household, and her time was too fully occupied to think 
of aught else. As the white settlers increased in number, the game in the forest 
diminished, and Jiotwithstanding Wawonda's skill in hunting, the family w^as 
often pinched for food. Polly, therefore, found it necessary, inasmuch as her 
liege lord felt it was beneath his dignity to engage in manual labor, to go among 
the white families and do their washing. In this way her rounds took her into 
the vicinity of Newburgh, and now for the first time she seriously considered 
the purjwse of again visiting the scenes of her early home. At the first oppor- 
tunity she fled with her two boys across the I'iver, and once more stood at the 
threshold where she had been born and reared, and where she had taken her last 
look of her parents. 

But the place had changed, and new faces were at the door. She inquired 
after her parents by name, and was told they had died of broken hearts years 
before. She sought out the companions of her childhood, but they had grown 
out of her remembrance; and her most intimate friends could not recognize in 
her the fresh, romping girl they had knowni in former years, such ravages a 
life of drudgery among the Indians had wrought in her frame. She half re- 
gretted leaving her home in the wilderness, and but for the interference of 
friends would in all probability have returned to her bondage. Wawonda, it 
is said, used to come down to the river at Newburgh, and sit for hours gazing 



Captivity of Mrs. Coleman. 95 

over at the luoimtains where his white squaw and lialf-hreed V)oys resided, hut 
he never dared venture into their vicinity. As Polly's identity was estahhshed 
beyond cavil, the property of lier fatlierwas placed in her possession, which was 
sufficient, with judicious economy, to provide for lier wants. 

The two boys grew up tall and slender, hut both died before reaching man- 
hood. Polly lived to a good old age, and often related, to groups of eager 
friends, the story of her captivity among the Delaware Indians. 



CAPTIVITY OF MRS. COLEMAN. 

DURING the perilous times of the French and Indian war tlie settlements 
east of the Shawangunk were not exempt from visits of scalping parties 
of Indian hostiles. It was at this stormy period that two brothers by the 
name of Coleman occupied a double log house with their famili<'s a short dis- 
tance south-east of the present village of Burlingham. 

Ou a Sabbath afternoon one of the brothers went into the woods to s.^arch 
for a span of horses that had strayed from home. While there he was sur 



Mm 




'^liij^^'^ w^^^^*^'^''' ^^^■'^'~" 

prised by a war-party of Indians lying in ambush, and was shot an.l scalped. 
The savages then proceeded to the house, where the other brother was sick, 
and confined to his bed. There was a crevice between the logs next the bed on 
which the sick man lay, througli which the Indians could insert the muzzles of 
their guns. The first intimation of danger the family had. was the startling 
report of fire-arms, the belching flames of gunpowder from the walls of their 
cabin and the piercing death-shriek of the brother as the fatal buUet penetrated 
his brain The next moment the painted demons burst into the house, dragged 
the corpse from the bed to the do(.r and tore away the scalp witli savage exul 
tation The women and children looked on, paralyzed with horror, and in 



96 Legends of the Shaivanguuk. 

momentary expectation of meeting a like fate. The savages chose to spare 
their Hves, however, and took them all prisoners. 

One of the women had a child about two weeks old. Being feeble and un- 
able to walk, she was placed astride an old horse, and her feet were tied under 
him with a rope. They then gave her the child to carry in her arms. Next 
setting fire to the building they hurried off in a north-west direction over the 
Shawangunk mountain. The babe was restless, and cried; and the savages, 
fearing its wailing would guide the whites who might be upon their track, told 
the mother she must keep it still or they would kill it. The mother did all she 
could to calm the little one, but it would not be quieted. Then one of the sav- 
ages rushed up to her side, tore the infant from her arms, and taking it by the 
heels knocked out its brains against a tree before her eyes, and threw it as far 
from the path as his strength would allow. There the body was left to be torn 
and devoured by wild beasts. 

The party passed over the mountain, reaching the Mamakating valley a 
little after dusk. Here they rested a short interval; as soon as the moon rose 
they resumed their journey, traveling the remainder of that night, and a part 
of the next day. The journey through that night was gloomy and fearful. 
Even the little children, after the brutal murder of the babe, dare make no 
complaints. Like wandering ghosts in the uncertain light they pursued the 
broken patli before them, occasionally startled by the howl of a wolf or the 
scream of a panther, their distress heightened and made more unbearable by 
the uncertainty of the fate that awaited them. 

Day came at last to the weary and hapless wanderers, but it brought no 
revival of their drooping hearts. Their natural protectors, so recently murdered 
by the ruthless savage, and themselves prisoners entirely at his mercy — the 
condition of those widows and orphans was not calculated to revive the spirits. 
As the day advanced their physical sufferings increased, as, foot-sore and ex- 
hausted, they were urged at an accelerated pace by their inhuman captors. 

The report of the tragedy soon spread throughout the neighboring settle- 
ments, and before Monday morning quite a number of the brave and sympathizing 
settlers had gathered about the Coleman cabm. The mangled bodies of the 
brothers, one of which had been brought in from the woods, where it had been 
found, and the charred embers of the log dwelling, all bore unmistakable evi- 
dence of the tragic event. The men were all armed with rifles and hunting- 
knives, and knew how to use them effectively; for the necessities of border life 
had skilled them in the use of those weapons. 

At the first streak of dawn the party set out upon the trail. No time was 
lost in a useless discussion of the probable results of the pursuit. It was 
enough that two of their friends had been murdered, and several women and 
hel})less children carried off into captivity, by a savage and relentless foe. Lit- 
tle difficulty was experienced in following the trail, the imi)ressions made by 
the feet of the horse being quite distinct. When they came upon the remains 
of the babe, and discovered the brutal manner in which it had been killed, their 



II 




As fcJ 



°°<">ooco<»ooooooooooooo^Boo30oqaoooooQoooo^>aoo, ^^J ' 







o ? 5 
C3 o f^ 

5o 



Captivity of ]\Irs. Coleman. ■ 97 

horror and indignation knew no bounds; they pressed forward with the greater 
energy with the stern purpose of wreaking vengeance on the marauders. 

So rapidly did the}^ march that they traveled as far that day as the Indians 
did in a night and day, encuml)ered as they were with women and children; 
towards night they found they were close upon the savages. The latter became 
aware that they were pui'sued, while the captives were ignorant of the prox- 
imity of their friends. They were then probably on the " barrens " of one of the 
Delaware river towns. The Indians were not in a condition for a fight and 
were aware that their enemies outnumbered them; so they sought to escape by 
stratagem. 

The nature of the ground at this point being such tliat the horse's hoofs 
would leave no impression, they turned at right angles from the path and se- 
creted themselves, with the captives in a tliicket. This was the first intimation 
the prisoners had that succor was near; but they were informed they would 
suffer instant death if they made the least noise. Presently they heard the 
sounds of their friends following in the path they had just left. Nearer and 
nearer they came, until the individual voices of their neighl)ors could be distin- 
guished. But the i)Oor children and their mothers did not dare even to look in 
the direction from whence the sounds came, for a savage stood over each of the 
trembling and anxious captives with a weapon upraised, ready to deal the fatal 
blow if an alarm was made. Would that a kind Providence might interpose, 
and i^revent their i)assing on without discovering tliat the path had been aban- 
doned. Now that help was so near, the hearts of the poor captives were well- 
nigh bursting at the suspense. They could hardly suppress a cry that they 
knew would bring their friends instantly to their side; but they knew it was 
in the power of the savages to strike every captive dead before relief could come. 
Gradually the voices grew more and more indistinct, then entirely ceased, and 
hope gradually died in the breasts of the piisoners, for the chance of Hberation 
had ])assed. 

After the whites had gone by, Mrs. Coleman, for the first time, was taken 
from the horse, on which she had been tied for twenty-four hours. The party 
remained in their place of concealment until the next morning; then the feeble 
and bereaved mother was again placed in her former position, and the journey 
resumed. 

From Sunday afternoon until Tuesday forenoon the party did n(^t i>artake 
of a morsel of food. The Indians had brought no provision with them, and 
were afraid to fire their guns, fearing to expose their i)osition to the whites. 
Before noon on Tuesday a deer was shot, and their appetite ai)[)eased. During 
their flight they came successively to the Neversilik and the Delaware rivers; 
m crossing these streams the Indians would drive the horse, ^^^th Mrs, Coleman 
on his back, in advance of the others, to measure the dei)th. But the grief of 
the poor woman at the death of her husband and child, her anxiety for her 
remaming children and her present fatigue and sufiferings, rendered her in a 
measure insensible to the danger of being submerged. 



98 Legends of the Sliaiuangun/c. 

On Thursday evening they arrived at an Indian village some fifty miles 
beyond the Delaware river. Their journey over mountains, and through the 
trackless woods was terminated, but not so their sufferings. After the cus- 
tomai'y rejoicing at the success and safe return of the warriors, a large fire was 
kindled, and the people of the village assembled. The captive white children 
were stripped naked, and then compelled to run around the fire, the savages 
following them with whips, which they applied to their naked bodies without 
mercy. When the children screamed with pain and affright, their tormentors 
would exhibit tlie greatest satisfaction, and yell and laugh until the woods rang 
with hideous mirth. In this cruel amusement the Indian boys participated 
with evident relish. 

While this was going on it seemed to Mrs. Coleman that her heart would 
break. She was unable longer to endure the agonizing screams of her own 
children, as they were pursued and lashed about the fire. She knew she was 
powerless to do them any good, so she resolved to flee to some secluded spot, 
where, out of reach of the Indians, she could quietly lie down and die. Steal- 
ing away softly and quietly until out of their sight, she ran as fast as her limbs 
would carry her. Presently she discovered a light in the distance, and by an 
unaccountable impulse, she resolved to go to it, not caring whether she lived or 
died. Here she found an old squaw who occupied a wigwam by herself. This 
squaw had lived among the white people, could speak their language tolerably 
well, and was known as Peter Nell — a name probably a corruption of Petro- 
nella, given her in baptism by the Moravians. To her Mrs. Coleman applied in 
her extremity. The womanly heart of the squaw was touched. She received 
her white sister kindly; assured her that the Indians should do her no further 
harm; and making her a bed of leaves and bear-skins, bade her rest until she 
could prepare some proper nourishment. 

This kind-hearted daughter of the foi'est presently came with a dish of ven- 
ison soup prepared after the manner of the white people, which proved very 
refreshing to the sick and exhausted captive. The latter remained with her 
benefactor until her health was completely restored, when the squaw" rendered 
her still further service by assisting her to return to her friends in Orange 
county. 

The fate of the other captives is unknown. It was many years after- 
wards reported that two of them escaped, but of this there is no certainty. 



Pliebe Reynolds ani/ the 'J\u'ics. 



99 



PHEBE REYNOLDS AND THE TORIES. 

MAN is largely a creature of circumstances. Wliatever may be liis natu- 
ral endowments Ave cannot shut our eyes to the fact that his cliaractcr 
is moulded by his surroundings. The girl that has been reared in luxury 
and ease, the sid)ject of assiduous care as though she were a tender and volatile 
plant, A\all acquire a softness and effeminacy that will lead her to lose self- 
control upon the slightest occasion. Her less-favored sister, bom with like en- 
dowments, but who has been brought u]^ amid the hardships and dangers of 
frontier life, when her fortitude is put to the test, \W11 be found capable of per- 
forming acts of heroism that will imt many of the lords of creation to shame. 
Among all the heroines of the border, whose deeds of hardihood and self-denial 
have been put on recoi'd, there will be found not one excelling in the subUmer 
virtues the subject of this sketch. 

Phebe Reynolds was the daughter of Henry Reynolds, and one of a large 
family of children. They were residing, at the time of the Revolution, in a log 
cabin in the present town of Monroe, within the region of country infested by 
the notorious Claudius Smith band of outlaws. One night the gang sm-- 
rounded Reynolds's cabin with i)ui-i)ose to effect an entrance, but found the win- 
dows and doors securely barred and bolted. They next mounted the roof, and 
two or three essayed to drop down the wide-mouthed chimney; one of the 
family poured the contents of a feather-bed upon the fire, and the rol)bei-s 
were forced to beat a retreat to escape suffocation. 

Some time afterward a second attempt was made with a difTerent result. 
Benjamin Kelley and Philip Roblin, both of whom were near neighbors of 
Reynolds, together with several others, went to Reynolds's house one dark 
night, and knocked for admission, representing themselves to be a detachment 
of the American army in search of deserters. After hurriedly dressing himself 
Reynolds opened the door, and then went to the fire-])lace to procure a light. 
While his back was turned to his visitors one of them struck him with the flat 
side of his sword, and told him to make haste. This at once revealed the char- 
acter of his guests. He made a rush for the door, but just outside stumbled 
over a log, and fell headlong. Ere he could recover himself the gang were 
upon him, and he was dragged back into the house. 

When the struggle began, Reynolds called loudly for Ins son, then a mere 
lad, to come to his assistance. When the boy came into the room, one of the 
men seized him, set him down upon the floor, and told him if lie moved even 
so much as to turn his head right or left, he would cut it off. This so terrified 
the boy that he sat as motionless as if he had been carved in stone. Mi's. Rey- 
nolds, accompanied by some of the other children, now came into the apart- 
ment; when she saw her husband in the hands of niffians, she fell upon the 

Lorc. 



lOO 



Lege7ids of the Shawanguiik. 




HANGING OF REYNOLDS. 



floor in convulsions; and it is believed she remained unconscious through most 
of the ensuing strife. 

After binding Reynolds, and wounding him with their knives and swords, 
they, in the presence of his family, proceeded to hang him on the trammel-pole 
of his fire-place. Having accomplished this, the members of the gang dispersed 
through the several rooms and commenced plundering, leaving him, as they 
supposed, in the throes of death. 

At this time Phebe Reynolds was twelve years old, but large and robust 
for one of her age. She had become inured to tlie dangers and terrors of bor- 
der life, and was resolute and fearless, particularly when her blood was up. 
Taking advantage of their temporary absence, Phebe caught up a knife and 

hastily cut the rope by which her father was sus- 
pended. She also threw the noose from his neck and 
managed to get him upon a bed. 

It was not long before the ruffians discovered what 
had been done, and again they gathered in the room 
to murder Reynolds. The girl boldly confronted them 
with her knife, like a lioness at bay. They commanded 
her to go away, threatening her with instant death if 
she refused. She declared she did not wish to live if 
they murdered her father. They then menaced lier 
with swords and knives; still she stood lier ground 
courageously. Finding them determined to murder her father, she sprang 
upon the bed, clasped her hands tightly around him, and attempted thus to 
shield him from their bloody instruments. One of the men then took the rope 
and cruelly beat the girl; but she did not even moan, or Avince, although she 
was marked from head to foot with broad, angry stripes. 

Finding this to be of no avail, the marauders forcibly tore her away, and 
once more Mr. Reynolds was left hanging to the trammel-pole, while they re- 
sumed their work of plundering the house. 

Again did the heroic daughter cut the rope, and was leading her father to 
another room, when his strength gave out, and he sank upon the floor. Again 
did the wretches discover what had been done, and they attacked him with 
their knives and swords as he lay upon the floor, and once more the brave 
daughter threw herself upon him, and endeavored to protect him; receiving on 
her own person many of the blows that were intended for him. In short, her 
clothing was saturated with the blood flowing from numerous cuts in her fore-, 
head and breast. Finally the robbers threw Mr. Reynolds into an old chest, 
and, shutting down the lid, they left the place, first destroying his private 
papers and setting fire to the house. They also rolled a large stone against the 
door, which opened outward, and told them they would shoot the first one that 
dared to raise the latch, with the design that the Avhole family should be burned 
up with the house. 

Phebe now made her way to the chest, and, raising the lid, found her 



Pkcbc Reynolds and the Tories. loi 

father, stiff and rigid, and apparently dead. Witli such lielp as her mother 
and the lad could give, the body of her father was lifted fr<^m the chest, and 
while this was being done, a low moan escaped his lips. She immediately pried 
open his teeth with a pewter spoon, and gave him a few drops of water. This 
seemed to revive him, and she gave him more while she [)roceeded to staunch 
the blood that was flowing from his wounds. 

While thus occupied her mother was moaning and wandering aimlessly 
from room to room, and presently she noticed that a bed, a hogshead of flax, 
and some other inflammable material were on fire. The mother, appalled at 
this discovery, cried out, " Oh, Phebe, the house is on fire in three places ! " 
"Why don't you put it out ? " demanded the daughter. "Oh, I can't," was 
the dismayed reply, "if it bums down over our heads ! " " Then come and take 
care of father and let me do it." The brave girl ])romptly dashed water on the 
burning beds, threw a drenched rug over the flax, and went back to her father. 

While engaged in dressing his wounds, she told the lad to go out and alarm 
the neighborhood; but the boy did not dare to leave the house. She then, after 
doing all she could for the safety and comfort of her father, set out upon the 
errand herself. Although her person was covered with cuts and wounds, her 
clotliing saturated with her own blood, and she had i)assed through a scene of 
teri'or such as few could have had the fortitude to face, yet she was so cool and 
collected that she noticed the crowing of cocks in the neighborhood as she 
passed along the road, and knew that morning was near. 

The alarm spread from house to house. A body of men immediately as- 
sembled, and shortly after sunrise started in pursuit of the ruffians. The latter 
were followed into their retreat in the mountains with such energy that they 
were taken by surprise and four or five of them were killed. One of the killed 
was Kelley, the leader of the gang, who resided within a mile of Reynolds's 
house, and had passed for a Whig. He was shot by a young man named June, 
who knew Kelley personally. It appears that June had been informed the 
robbers were at a certain place playing cards. When he approached their hid- 
ing place they heard him coming, and rose to tlieir feet. As th(^y did so, he 
fired into their midst; tlie shot mortally womided Kelley, whose body was after- 
ward found at a sulphur spring to which he had wandered and died. The re- 
mains were partially covered up with leaves and brush, and near by was the 
wedding suit of Heiu^y Reynolds, tied u]^ Avith a bark string. This suit Mr. 
Reynolds had preserved over fourteen years; yet he expressed a wish never to 
wear or see the clothes again since they had been on the back of a Tor}^ Only 
two of the iiiffians escai)ed, and they were afterwards arrested in New Jersey. 
Reynolds would not consent to appear against them, pnjbably on accomit of 
his Quaker principles. 

While some of the neighbors were pursuing the marauders, others, includ- 
ing the physicians of the town, were attending to the injuries of the family. 
Reynolds, it was found, had been cut and stabbed in more than thirty places. 
All ear had been so nearly severed that it hung down on his shoulder. It was 



I02 Legends of the Shawangtink. 

replaced as well as circumstances would admit, but the wound healed in such 
a way as to disfigure him for life. One of his hands was cut so badly that he 
never afterwards fully recovered its use. 

For weeks Eeynolds was on the brink of the grave; but he possessed a 
strong constitution, fortified by a life of temperance and regular habits, and he 
was once more restored to health. His wounds so completely covered his per- 
son that, as he lay bandaged, he more resembled an Egyptian mummy than 
anything else. His neighbors were very kind to him; they cut his wheat, 
gathered his hay, and even provided for his family. 

When the physicians turned their attention to Phebe, it was found that the 
wounds on her forehead and breast were of a serious nature, and that her body 
and limbs were badly bruised and lacerated. Whenever she came within her 
father's sight, her bruised and bandaged appearance so affected him, that the 
physicians directed that she should not be allowed to come in his room ; and 
instead of exacting fees for their attendance, the physicians filled Phebe's 
hands with coin. 

Soon after this event Henry Eeynolds removed to Sullivan county, where 
he lived to a good old age, greatly respected by all who knew him. There are 
people still living in Fallsburg and Neversink who have heard the facts related 
by Henry Reynolds himself as he exhibited his scars. Phebe became the wife 
of Jeremiah Drake, of Neversink Flats, and died in November, 1853; her re- 
mains repose in the little burial-ground, near those of her husband. Her pos- 
terity are among the most highly honored residents of the Neversink valley. 
One hundred years after the marriage of Henry Eeynolds, says Quinlan, it is 
estimated that his descendants numbered upwards of one thousand. 



MISS LAND'S MIDNIGHT JOURNEY. 

ON the east bank of the Delaware river, near the Falls of Cochecton, dur- 
ing the Eevolution and for some time thereafter, there stood a log house, 
a fair representative of the rude cabins of the frontier. This was the resi- 
dence of Bryant Kane, whose family consisted of a wife and several children. 
Kane was thought to entertain sentiments favorable to the King, for which he 
incurred the ill-will and suspicion of his neighbors; the feeling became so strong 
against him that he was forced to leave the neighborhood, information having 
reached him that Captain Tyler, who was killed subsequently at the battle of 
Minisink, had issued orders for his arrest. 

Before leaving home Kane engaged a man named Flowers to stay with his 
family and manage the farm; and, confident that no harm could befall them, 
and that the feuds and vindictiyeness of partisan warfare would not be visited 
upon innocent women and children, he did not take his family with him. But 
Bryant Kane was never suffered to look upon their faces again. 



J//ss Land's JMiduioht Journey. 103 

On the opposite bank of the river resided lt(jbert Land, also a Tory, and. 
like Kane, a refugee from his home. It was kiiovvn that Indians and sccnits 
were in the neighborhood, and their pi-esence was a source of uneasiness. One 
day in the month of A])ril the wife (jf Robert Land, and her son, a lad of nineteen 
years, fearing a visit fiom the Indians, drove tlieir cattle to a place of conceal- 
ment in the mountains. Here tliey remained all night to guai'd them, leaving 
three other brothers and two sisters at home. 

When the family had retired, and all were asleep, one of the dangiiters 
was disturbed b}- some one in her room. She awoke to find an Indian standing 
by her bed, drawing a spear i)oint gently across the sole of her foot. The fel- 
low spoke Idndly to her in his broken Indian accent, and told her to get up and 
run to the neighbors and let them know the Indians had come. He had found 
means to enter her sleeping apartment without alarming the other members of 
the family, and had chosen this novel method of awakening her. Whether 
her nocturnal visitor really intended to befriend the settlers by putting them 
on their guard is not known; but without further explanation he left the house 
as mysteriously as he came. 

Miss Land arose, dressed herself, and silently left tlie house. Singularly 
enougli slie did not alarm her brothers and sisters, who were still wi-ipped in 
slumber. She drew her shawl closer about her head, for the night v»\as chiUy, and 
hurried down to the river side. Her way led down the bank through a ravine, 
over which a clump of hemlocks cast a deep gloom. Her fancy half pictured 
a wild beast or Indian warrior ci-ouching under the shadow. She then sought for 
the dug-out, and, having found it, Ijoldly puslunl for the opposite shore. The 
wind sighed dismally through the evergreens; an owl, in a dry tree that hung 
over the river, was sounding its boding cry; the night was dark and the waters 
swollen. Miss Land thought she never before undertook so lonely a journey. 

She pointed the canoe's head to the river path that led up to Kane's house; 
she knew the spot by a large hemlock that stood at the brink and leaned over 
the river. She was soon winding up the zigzag path; she had so often passed 
over it that she knew its every crook and irregularity. 

As she came into the clearing all was silent, save the low moaning of the 
wind among the pines, and the cry of the owl down by the river bank. Tlie 
girdled trees, denuded of their limbs and blackened l)y fire, stood around like 
grim and ghostly sentinels. Approaching the house, no sign of life was visible. 
She thought of the prol)ability that Indians might be lurking at that moment 
in the shadows of the charred stumps, ready at the signal to staitle the night 
air with the war-whoop, and slaughter the sleeping inmates. 

Her feelings served to quicken her pace. Once at the door of tlie Kane 
cabin she endeavored to attract the attention of those \\ithin. She i-apped on 
the door; llien went to ^Irs. Kane's bedroom window, but could get no response. 
She next tried to open the door; it yielded, and with i)ali)itating heart she en- 
tered tlie house. She called the members of the family by name, but received 
no answer. All was still as the house of death. 



lOA Legends of the Sliawangnnk. 

Presently she stumbled over some object upon the floor. Stooping down 
she found it to be the prostrate body of a woman, and was horrified to find hei* 
a})parel wet with blood. 

Miss Land fled from the house; she was too much frightened to shriek. She 
quickly aroused the family of Nicholas Conklin, the nearest neighbor of the 
Kane's and told them what she had discovered. It was deemed prudent not to 
venture abroad before morning. 

At the break of day Mr. Conklin and some neighbors went to the Kane 
cabin, where they found that the entire family, including Mr. Flowers, had 
been mm-dered and scalped. Mrs. Kane had evidently been scalped while 
alive, for she had died while attempting to dress herself, and a portion of her 
dress was drawn over her mutilated head. 

After gazing at the horrid scene, the party accompanied Miss Land home. 
Her mother and brother John were still absent; while her little brother Abel 
had been taken from the house by Indians during the night. Not long after 
this Mrs. Land and John returned, and were informed of what had taken place. 
They thought it very strange that their family should be made a target for 
both parties. John resolved on an attempt to recover his missing brother; so, 
hastily collecting a few of his neighbors, among them some friendly Indians liv- 
ing in the vicinity, he set out upon the trail of the marauders, which led to- 
ward the Mohawk country. 

After a brief but rapid march they overtook the retreating party, and 
found them posted for battle. John was not disposed to fight; he only wanted 
a parley with a view to releasing his brother. An explanation took place, the 
result of which was that Abel was restored to his friends after first being com- 
pelled to run the gauntlet. In executing this feat his speed astonished every- 
body present. He received only a few blows, and such was the admiration of 
the Indians for the spirit and dexterity he exhibited, that he was suffered to 
j)ass through unharmed. The two parties then separated; Jolm and his com- 
panions to their homes, and the Indians, who proved to be a wandering party 
of Mohawks, to their own country 

Three years subsequent to the murder of Bryant Kane's family at the Falls 
of Cochecton, Col. Bryant, with a party of Tories and Indians, made a descent 
on Harpersfield, in Delaware county. They captured several of the patriots 
of the settlement, including Mr. Freegift Patchin, whom they took to Niagara. 
Some time after the Eevolutionary war, Patchin published a narrative of his 
captivity, in which he says one of his captors was Barney Kane, a Tory. This 
is thouglit to be the Bryant Kane whose family was murdered on the banks 
of the Delaware. 

During the journey from Harpersfield to Niagara, Patchin says Kane 
boasted that he had killed a Major Hopkins, on an Island in Lake George. A 
])arty of pleasure had gone to this island on a sailing excursion, and having 
delayed their departure until too late to return home, determmed to spend the 
night on the island. Kane and his party, perceiving that they were defenseless. 



'Jlie Tories After the Revolution. 105 

proceeded to the pl;ice as soon as it was night, and attacked them as tliey 
were sleeping aiound a fire. Several of the Americans were killed, among 
them a woman. This woman had a habe which was not injured in the least. 
" Tliis," said Kane, " we put to the breast of its dead mother, and in that man- 
ner we left it. Major Hopkins was wounded, only his thigh-bone being broken. 
He started up, when I struck him with the butt of my gim on the side of his 
head. He fell over but caught on one hand. I then knocked him the other 
way, but he caught on the other hand. A third blow, and I laid him dead. 
These were all scali)ed except the infant. In the morning a party of Whigs 
went over and brought away the dead, together with one they found alive, 
though scalped, and the babe which was hanging and sobbing at the breast of 
its lifeless mother." 

Whether the massacre of Bryant Kane's family so wrought upon a nature 
not originally bad as to convert him into a fiend, or whether his own crimes 
against his Whig neighbors led to the slaughter of his wife and children, is not 
known. The feelings which prompted and the motives which actuated the 
conmiission of the bloody deeds by the early settlers against their neighbors, 
will never be unveiled until the day of final reckoning. 

After the declaration of peace, Bryant Kane wandered from place to place 
in the valley of the Delaware. His property w-as confiscated; and having lost 
both family and fortune, he sought for consolation in the intoxicating cup, and 
finally left the comitry. The time and manner of his death no one can tell. 

John Land became so obnoxious to the Whigs that he was arrested and 
sent to the "New Jersey log jail." From this he escaped; but was soon 
retaken, wounded in his head \\\W\ a sword, and hanged until his life was 
nearly gone. He was informed that next time he would be hanged in earnest, 
and after being heavily ironed was once more cast into prison. Subsequently a 
Whig named Harvey became responsible for his good conduct, and he was per- 
mitted to enjoy the hberties of the town. He hved with Harvey until 1783, 
when he returned to Cochecton. He became a respectable citizen of the United 
States, although he was stigmatized until the day of his death as " Jolm Land, 
the Tory." 



THE TORIES AFTER THE REVOLUTION. 

THE bitter animosity engendered during the Revolutionary war between 
the Whigs and Tories did not subside immediately after the treaty of 
peace in 1783. The few of the latter who remained in the country were ever 
after subjected to social ostracism, and were most fortunate if they escaped per- 
sonal \'iolence. The patriotic inhal)itants of the frontier could not so soon forget 
the manner in which their babes had been taken from the cradle and from the 
breasts of their mothers. an.I their brains dashed out, by the hated and despised 



io6 Legcmis of the Shawangunk. 

Tories; nor could they blot from their memory the fact that those foes to their 
country, while professing friendship to the AVhigs, acted as spies for the 
enemy, and secretly joined the predatory bands of Indians in their incursions 
against their nearest neighbors of the settlements, and shared in the booty while 
they excelled their savage allies in deeds of inhumanity. Indeed, this anti-Tory 
feeling only died out when the last patriot of the Revolution expired. That 
there would be numerous collisions between the two factions was to be expected, 
as that would be no more than the legitimate result of such bitter personal re- 
sentment; nor could the wranglings cease except with the death of the 
parties. 

At a militia training in Rochester, about the year 1783, several individuals 
who were known to be Tories attended. The patriots regarded them with 
undisguised hatred, and were indignant at their presumption in being present, 
and only waited the slightest pretext to gratify their ill-feeling by a pitched 
battle. They did not hesitate to call them Tories to their very faces and hard 
words passed on both sides. At last a Whig gave a Tory a kick, which was 
repaid with interest by a blow. Others fell in on both sides, and a general and 
desperate skirmisli ensued. As nothing but fists and clubbed muskets were 
used, the fight was long and obstinate, but attended with no fatal results. 
Allien the affray was over, the Tories bent their steps homeward, meeting a 
Whig on their way, on whom they administered some retaliatory vengeance. 
Bruised and bloody, he presented himself before the other Whigs and related 
what had occurred, adding that the Tories were loading their pieces with balls. 
The Whigs then charged their guns likewise, and went in pursuit of the 
offenders; presently coming in sight of them they opened fire, but fortunately 
none were killed. 

One who went by the name of " The Tory Van A^eet " lived back of New- 
town, in the present town of Rochester. He was taken prisoner at Minisink, 
and forwarded without much ceremony by the various captains from one mili- 
tary post to another until he was brought up before Captain Kortright, of 
Rochester. That stern old patriot did not deem it best to let Van Vleet pass his 
hands without some ceremony suited to the times and the occasion. He 
ordered out a portion of his company with a fife and drum. Then stripping his 
prisoner, he caused a liberal allowance of tar and feathers to be applied to his 
person, and a long yoke with a bell was fastened to his neck by way of distin- 
guished compliment. A negro then went ahead with a rope attached to the 
yoke, by which he was led along to the next station, which was at Mill Hook. 
The Rogue's March was struck up, and a few soldiers Avith charged bayonets 
followed to spur him up occasionally. Sometimes the negro would give the 
rope a jerk, when the beU would give a melodious tinkle, blending beautifully 
with the martial music. 

There was another Tory by the name of Joe Westbrook, whose father lived 
in Minisink. On his way home from the war, Joe stopped at Andrew Bevier's, 
at Napanock, and made some enquiries, as though he were a stranger in those 



The lories Aftei' the Revolution. 



107 



pMi'ts. It has been well observed that hypocrisy is ever addicted to overacting 
its part, and Joe's conduct at that time was no exception to the tiiith of the 
l)roverbial remark. In short his attempted dece[)tion was the occasion of 
adverse comment, and aroused the sentiment still more against him, A few 
warm-hearted patriots in and about Xapanock embarked in a wagon and drove 
dow^n the Mamakating valley in time to reach Miiiisink early in the evening. 
They looked in at the window, and saw the old man and his son Joe sitting and 
talking at the fire. Joe was boasting of his exploits against the WHiigs in the 
late war — at least so thought the Napanock patriots. They surrounded the 
house, while Jacobus Chambers, a brave and hardy veteran, was chosen to 
enter. 

The moment the tap at the door was heard, Joe ran into an adjoining room. 
In response to a question from Chambers the old man solemnly declared ' ' he 







A TUUY TARRKD AND FEATHERKD, YOKF.D AND BELLKD. 



had not seen his son Joe since the war." Chambers replied, " Give me a candle 
and I will show you your son." " But I have no candle," persisted the old 
man. Chambers retorted, " I don't want your candle:" and producing a tallow 
dip from his pocket he proceeded to liglit it, and then moved towards the door 
where Joe had secreted himself. 

^^ Loop, Joiigen, loop!'" (i*un, boy, run) sang out the old Tory, at the top 
of his voice. The boy started for the window, but two or three stalwart men 
were guarding it, and the poor fellow cried out, "Yes, dad, but it's full here 
too. " Joe was taken in the wagon back to Xapanock, where a council of war 
was convened to deliberate on his case. Some w^ere for hanging him outright 
as no more than a just recompense for his past misdeeds, wdiile a fe^v counseled 
a less rigorous i)unisbment. It is said, while the deliberations were progressing, 
that Joe trembled and shook as did Belshazzar at the hand- writing on the w^all 
of his palace, and could not conceal his pleasure when he saw the tar bucket 
and feathers brought in, and judged by the preparations that it had been de- 



io8 Legends of the Shaiva7igunk. 

termined not to hang him. He was accordingly tarred and feathered, yoked 
and belled, in lieu of the paint which he had formerly used. From the yoke a 
rope was passed to a man on horseback, by which he was led out of town. On 
being released, he hired a negro in Eochester to clean him for fifty cents, and 
then returned to his home in Minisink. 



TOM QUICK, THE INDIAN SLAYER. 

THOMAS QUICK emigrated from Ulster county about the year 1T33, and 
was the descendant of respectable and affluent ancestors, who came 
over from Holland previous to lG8i). He located some valuable lands at Mil- 
ford, Pennsylvania, where he built a log cabin, and settled down with none but 
Indians for neighbors. He depended largely on hunting and fishing for his 
subsistence, and in this respect his habits differed little from those of the wild 
Indians about him. 

It was not long before other settlers were attracted into that locality. 
Among the few white maidens that had ventured so far into the wilderness 
was a comely lass whom Thomas Quick prevailed on to share his fortunes in 
life's thorny pathway. Though the bride's trousseau may not have come from 
Paris, though guests in silks and rich brocades may not have graced the occa- 
sion, we question whether loving hearts did not beat as fondly as though sur- 
rounded by the demands and restraints of fashionable life; and whether the 
plain and homely fare of corn-l)read and venison was not as thoroughly relished 
as the most elaborate wedding-feast of modern days. Here, in due time, several 
children were born to them, among the number Thomas Quick, the subject 
of this chapter. The Quicks had wisely chosen the location of their home. The 
family j)rospered, became the owners of mills, and the possessors of much 
valuable real estate. 

Notwithstanding that the wealth and social position of the Quicks would 
assure Tom a welcome to the best society of those border settlements, his tastes 
led him in another direction — a wild life in the forest and the companionship of 
the savages by whom he was surrounded proving much more to his liking. 

At this time the various tribes of natives held undisputed sway along the 
hanks of the Delaware and its tributaries, except the settlement at Peenpack, 
on the Neversink; and they frequented the house of Quick, who had early Avon 
their confidence, and who, from the first, had treated them witli generous hos- 
pitality. They took quite a fancy to young " Tom," and " made him presents 
of plumes of feathers and other articles." He frequently participated with the 
young Indians in their sports, became their companion in their hunting expe- 
ditions, and learned to speak the Delaware tongue with as much fluency as the 
Indians themselves. So much did he incline to a hunter's life that he could 



Tom Quick, tlie Jmiiaii Slayer. 109 

rarely be induced to follow any other vocation. His associations develoi)e<l in 
liiiu all those characteristics of the natives which incUned them to a Hfe of wild 
abandonment, and he grew to be totally unlike his brothci-s and sisters; while 
he ranged the woods, they attended a Dutch school that had been established to 
meet the demands of the neighborhood. During this period, however, he was 
familiarizing himself with the country at the headwaters of the Delaware 
and its tributaries; most of these streams lu^ had traced to their sources, and 
thus acquired a knowledge that proved of essential service to him in after 
years. 

As lias been before stated, the Indians were on very intimate terms with 
the Quicks, '*many of them almost living in the family." But these friendly 
relations were not of an enduring character. While the Quicks studiously 
avoided giving any offense to their savage neighbors, and invariably treated 
them with open-heai-ted hospitality, there were other influences at work which 
induced the Indians to forget the kind offices of their benefactors; and while 
the latter felt their past favors merited some consideration, the natives were 
plotting for the total extinction of the white settlement. 

The Indians had become alarmed at the increasing demands and encroach- 
ments of the wliites. The Delaware country was the favorite haunt of the red 
man; the bones of their fathers were interred in its most pleasant places, and 
within the sound of its waters the clans had gathered, from time immemorial, 
to celebrate their annual festivities. Now the prospect w^as that the pale-fnced, 
land-loving race would soon occupy the whole country unless some decisive 
step was taken; that their hmiting-grounds would be spoiled, and the gi-aves 
of their forefathers desecrated by the Avhite man's plow. 

Though the Quicks had been miiformly kind to them, the fact could not be 
denied that tliis family was the first to locate on the Indian lands at Milf<jrd, 
and that it was through their influence that other settlers were induced to 
come. Some of the latter w^ere not over-scrupulous in their dealings with the 
Indians, and the Quicks were in a measure held responsible for their acts. It 
has been hinted that the cupidity of the savages was another predisi>osing cause 
of their subsequent atrocities, being excited by the great possessions of the 
Quicks, which would fall into their hands in case of open hostilities. Fi'equent 
and open threats were made to expel the whites out of the territory. 

Tliis was at the time of the breaking out of the French and Indian war; 
and under such circumstances it was an easy matter for the emissaries of France 
to rouse the Indians against the adherents of Great Britain, and endeavor to 
drive them back to their old bounds. Each party feared and distrusted the 
other. A few whites having been killed or captured at exposed points, it was 
resolved to mcrease the defenses of the settlement by erecting block-houses, and 
l)rocuring additional arms and ammunition. The settlers sought to avoid i)ro- 
voking open hostilities, and hoped the fears of a general uprising of the Indians 
were groundless. 

Owing to the changed attitude of the Indians, Tom Quick had withdra^\ni 



I lo Lcgejids of the Shazvaugunk. 

from association with tlieiu, and had hecome quite domesticated in the family 
of his father; and while thus situated an event occurred which crystalized 
Tom's life, and changed his whole being into one of implacable hatred of the 
Indian race. 

The savages had plotted the destruction of Milford, and were then secreted 
in the neighborhood waiting the approach of night, under cover of whicli to 
put their plan into execution. Unsusi^icious of such a critical state of affairs, 
Tom, together with his father and brother, went into the woods across the 
river for the purpose of cutting hoop -poles. The river was frozen, so they 
passed over on the ice, and were soon busily engaged in selecting and securing 
the poles. As they proceeded around a ridge near the river, they were dis- 
covered by an out-post of the ambushed Indians. The latter determined to 
attack the Quicks, even at the risk of alarming the settlement, and thus defeat- 
ing the main object of the expedition. 

When Tom and his companions had approached sufficiently near, they 
were fired upon, and the father fell mortally wounded. The Quicks were un- 
armed; their only course was to fly. Neither of the sons were hurt, and, taking 
hold of their father, they endeavored to drag him after them as they ran. 
Being too closely pressed by the pursuing savages, the dying man prevailed on 
them to leave him to his fate, while they ran for their lives. 

The only avenue of escape involved the hazardous experiment of crossing 
the Delaware river on the ice, within full view of the Indians, and at close rifle 
range. The dash was made ; but before they had reached half way, the savages 
appeared upon the bank behind them. There was no protection against the 
murderous rifles of the yelling demons, any of whom could hit a deer nine 
times in ten while it Avas bounding through the forest; but by running in zig- 
zag course, and by keeping as far apart as possible, the fire of the Indians was 
less effective. Pi^esently a ball hit Tom, and he fell; at which the savages ^et 
up a loud shout. But the next moment he was up again, and running as 
rapidly as ever. The ball, as was afterward ascertained, only hit the heel of 
his boot, but with such force as to knock his foot from under him. Again the 
balls whistled past the fugitives; but, coming to the river bank, they were soon 
out of danger. The brothers were both fleet runners, and trained in back- 
woods life. Another circumstance contributing to their escape was, that on 
leaving their father, they had sought the cover of an overhanging rock, and 
by striking an oblique direction were well across the river before the savages 
could get a shot at them. 

Finding they were not pursued, Tom and his brother crept back to the 
river bank to see what was going on. They heard the scalping- whoop, and 
witnessed the rejoicings of the Indians over the remains of their father. It 
was at this juncture that Tom, rendered frantic by their fiendish conduct, 
made a solemn vow that he would never cease from a war of extermination as 
long as an Indian remained on the banks of the Delaware. This oath of ven- 
geance Tom fulfilled to the letter. It is known that he slew at least twenty 



Id))i OuicL\ the hidiati Slayer. 1 1 1 

of tlio liate(( race, while sonic writeis have placed the nuinl)er of his victims 
at a hundred. 

With Tom the killing of Indians hecame a kind of religious duty, in which 
he undertook to redress the great wrong of his father's murder. He i>ursued 
his hloody work with all the fervor of a fanatic. In after yeais he w^ould relate 
his exploits, and give the harrowmg details witli no more show of feeling than 
if they related to the most trivial affairs; and without any apparent misgiving 
that his work involved a grave moral question. 

According to his own statement, Tom destroyed an indefinite number of 
the hated race while hunting. On hearing the I'eport of a gun in the woods, 
h(^ Avould creep cautiously to the point whence the sound proceeded, and was 
generally rewarded by finding an Indian skinning a bear (jr a deer. It was then 
an easy matter to send a bullet on its fatal errand; and wdien in after years a 
hunter came upon the bones of an Indian and a deer blenching together in the 
woods, he would ejaculate— " Another victim of Tom Quick's vengeance."' 

The sight of an Indian seemed to suggest Imt one thought to Tom, and 
that w\as how the savage could be dispatched with the greatest facility. He 
was many times involved in serious personal danger in the execution of his 
vow% and seems to have had little regard for his own safety whenever an 
opportunity was offered him of killing an Indian. 

At last old age came upon Tom Quick, the Indian slayer, and his increasing 
infirmities compelled him to relinquish his former habits. At this time he lived 
with James Rosecrans, about three miles below Carpenter's point. Here he 
w^as kindly treated, and furnished with every comfort he could desire. He was 
regarded by those who knew his history with a kind of deferential awe; and 
Avas siKiken of with as much enthusiasm by his admirers as was ever accorded 
to any hero of modern times. 

He is described as being six feet in height; gaunt and angular; with high 
cheek bones; bright and restless gray eyes; and his hair, before it w^as silvered 
with age, was of a dark l)row^n. He Avas quiet in his demeanor; his features 
were grave and dignified, seldom relaxing into a smile. So long as he was able, 
he visited each summer the scenes of his adventures. At such times he stopped 
temporarily at the house of a friend at Mongaup island, or in a hut near Hagan 
pond. 

Tom carried his favorite rifle on his shoulder until the stock was worn 
through. Outlawed and alone he waged war against a race that had incurred 
his hatred, imtil the Indians were driven from the territory, leaving him in 
possession of their hunting-gTounds. Tom died at tlie house of Rosecrans al)Out 
the year 17JK5, regretting to the last that he had not shot more Indians. 

If tradition is to be believed, it is tiTie of Tom (^)nick, as was said of Sam- 
son of old, that "he slew more of his enemies at his death than he destroyed 
during his whole life." By a strange fatality, Tom was brought down by that 
dreadful malady— small-pox. The Indians, having learned the place of his 
sepulchre, dug up the body of their deceased enemy, and distributed the 



112 Lcgeitds of the SJiaivanguiik. 

portions among the clans throughout the vicinity. Great pow-wows were 
held, every man, woman and child of the several clans were assembled, and the 
sections of Tom Quick's body were burned with great ceremony. No more 
effective plan could have been devised to spread the disease, and its ravages 
were not checked until the tribe had been nearly exterminated. 

If the death of any man was ever avenged, the death of Tom Quick's father 
certainly was. 



TOM QUICK AND THE INDIAN MUSKWINK. 

NOT long after the close of the French and Indian war, an Indian by the 
name of Muskwink returned to Peenj)ack, in the lower valley of 
the Neversink. He was an idle, drunken vagabond, and spent much of 
his time at Decker's tavern. One day Tom happened at the tavern while 
Muskwink was there. As was usually the case, the savage was intoxicated; 
but he claimed Tom's acquaintance, and asked him to drink. The latter replied 
with some vehemence, which brought on a war of words. The savage, with 
no apparent design other than to irritate Tom, began to boast of his exploits in 
the late war, and of his participation in the killing of Tom Quick's father. He 
declared that he tore the scalp from his head with his own hand; and then pro- 
ceeded to give a detailed accomit of the whole affair, dwelling at length upon 
the old man's dying moments, interspersing the narration with unfeeling and 
irreverent remarks. As if that was not enough to arouse the demon in Tom's 
heart, the Indian mimicked his father's dying struggles, and even exhibited 
the sleeve-buttons worn by him at the time he was killed. 

Tom was unarmed. Suspended on some hooks over the fire-place, in 
accordance with the custom of border settlements, was a rifle, Tom walked 
deliberately across the room, removed the rifle from the hooks, saw that it was 
loaded and primed, and then cocked it. Before those present divined his pur- 
pose, or the savage could retreat or resist, Tom pointed the muzzle directly at 
his breast, and ordered him to leave the house. The Indian sullenly complied, 
and resigned himself to the guidance of Tom, who drove him into the main 
road leading from Kingston to Minisink, After proceeding about a mile in the 
direction of Carpenter's point, Tom exclaimed, "You Indian dog, you'll kill 
no more white men;" and pulling the trigger, shot the Indian in the back. 
Muskwink jumped two or three feet from the ground and feU dead. Tom then 
took possession of the sleeve-buttons that had belonged to his father, dragged 
the body near to the upturned roots of a tree, and kicking some loose dirt and 
leaves over it, left it there. He then returned to the tavern, replaced the gun 
on the hooks, and left the neighborhood. Several years afterward the Indian's 
bones were exhumed by Philip Decker while plowing this land, who gave them 



loni Quick and the hidian Muskwnik. 113 

a Christian burial. It does not appear that any attempt was made to arrest 
Tom for the murder of Muskwink; if any such were instituted lie ehided them. 
The frontiersmen generally applauded his action, believing the aggravating 
circumstances under which he acted were a full and sufficient justification. 

Not long after this tragedy occurred, Tom was lumting in the vicinity of 
Butler's rift. As he was watching at the foot of the rift, either for \vild beasts 
or Indians, he was rewarded by the sight of some savages, coming up the river 
in a canoe. The party consisted of an Indian and si^uaw, and three children— 
the youngest an infant at the breast. They were quietly passing up the stream, 
unaware of the presence of Tom, who lay concealed iii the tall reed-grass gi'ow- 
ing upon the shore. As they approached, Tom recognized the Indian as one of 
those who had visited his father's house before the war, and had been engaged 
in several outrages on the frontier. 

When they had arrived within gmi-shot, Tom rose from his recumbent 
posture, and ordered them to come ashore. The Indian had heard of the kill- 
ing of Muskwink; and when he recognized Tom, he "turned veiy pale," but 
he dare not disobey, and api)roached the place where Tom stood. The latter 
then made some inquiries, asking them whence they came and where they were 
going, to all of which they made respectful answer. Tom next coolly informed 
the savage that he had reached his journey's end; that his tribe had mui'dered 
his father and several of his relatives during the Avar, and that he had sworn 
vengeance against his whole race. The Indian repUed that it was "peace 
time; " that the hatchet was buried, and that therefore they were now brothers. 
Tom replied there could be no peace between the redskins and him; that lie 
had sworn to kill every one that came within his power. He then shot the 
Indian, who jumped from the canoe into the river, where, after a few convul- 
sive throes, he died. Then wading out to the canoe he brained the squaw with 
a tomahawk:— the mother, true to her instinct, essayed to fly to her youngest 
child after the murderous instrument had cloven through her skull. Next the 
tw-o oldest children shared the fate of their mother. Tom said he had some 
difficidty in dispatching them, as they dodged about so, and " y<iuawked like 
young crows." When he came to the babe, and it looked up into his face and 
smiled, his heart failed him for a moment; but remembering if he let it live it 
would gi-ow and become an Indian, he did not spare even the babe. In his old 
age when asked why he killed the cliildi-en, his invariable reply was, " Nits 
make lice." 

Tom's next duty was to secrete the bodies of his victims. If the affair 

became known, he would incur the enmity of his own people, as they would 

stand in fear of some retaliatory measure from the Indians with whom they 

were then at peace. He brought a number of stones; then with some roi)es of 

basswood bark he tied a stone to each of the bodies, and conveyed them one 

after the other to the deep water of the rift, where he sank them to the bottom. 

AMien all the bodies were thus disposed of, Tom destroyed the canoe, and no 

evidence of the crime remained. As soon as it was safe to do so, he related the 
8 



114 



Legends of the Shawangunk. 



foregoing facts to his nephew Jacob Quick, of Callicoon, from whom tlie his- 
torian Quinlan received them. It is said that Tom would relate the circum- 
stances of the affair in an exultant manner, as though he thought himself en- 
titled to credit. The incident illustrates the extremes of cruelty and barbarity 



^fmW J^ p'vf JhiTa vs. 




TOM QUICK KILLING A FAMILY OF FIVE INDIANS. 



to which a person may be led l)y a constant brooding over wrongs, real or im- 
aginary, and by the still more reprehensible habit of harboring thoughts of 
revenge. 



TOM QUICK AND THE BUCK WITH SEVEN SKINS. 

DURING the months of summer, Tom Quick followed his favorite avoca- 
tions, which alternated between the business of hunting and that of 
killing Indians. Sometimes in company with a boon companion, but more 
frequently alone and unattended, he ranged the forests about the head- 
waters of the Delaware, now ].)ursuing the bounding deer, and again following 
with stealthy and cat-like tread the trail of the Indian hunter, whom he sent 
without warning to the Indian's paradise His winters were usually spent at 
the house of some congenial spirit in the vicinity of his hunting-grounds. He 
always paid well for his entertainment, for he kept the family, with whom he 
was quartered, fully supplied with venison and bear meat. While hunting late 
one autumn on a distant fork of the Delaware, he awoke one morning to find 
the forest buried in deep snow, and the rigors of winter at hand in all their 
severity. It was with difficulty that he made his way to the house where he 



'ro))i Ouick and the Buck icit/i Seven Skins. 



I I 



purposed to spend the winter. So sudden and severe had tlie season set in that 
Tom liad not secured a supply of winter venison. He knew a place out some 
distance from his friend's residence where he could find ahundance of game, 
and only waited a favorable change in the weather to go and secure it. 

About this time an Indian came into the neighborhood, and Tom was not 
long in making his acquaintance. Together they talked of the chase, and 
related their hunting exploits around the fireplace of the settler, protracting 
their story-telling long into the night. Tom at length set out upon his hunting 
expedition, accompanied by the Indian. They had agreed to hunt in comi)any, 
Tom proposing to take the venison for his share, and the Indian the skins. 
They arrived at the destined locality at the close of a day's march, when they 
bivouacked for the night in the snow. The next day they had unusual good luck 
for they killed seven deer. The Indian had as many skins as he could carry, 
consequently he did not want to hunt any more at that time; so he got them 
together, i^laced them upon his back, and started through the snow for his 
cabin. It was destined he should never reach 
it, however, for as he started off, a ball from 
Tom Quick's rifle penetrated the seven skins, 
and entei'ing the back of the Indian killed him 
instantly. When Tom reached the settlement 
with all the skins and the venison, his friends, 
who knew the arrangement that had been made 
in regard to the division of the spoils, asked him 
how he came by all the pelts. Tom replied that 
after he and the Indian had got through hunt- 
ing, ' ' he had shot a fat buck in the woods with 
seven skins on his back." 

The Indians suspected that Tom was concerned in the mysterious disap- 
pearance of so many of their hunters, and frequent attempts w^ere made to 
kill him. Notwithstanding they had numerous opportunities, they missed 
their mark so often that they were inclined to believe he had a charmed life, 
and could not be hit by an Indian bullet. One day Tom Avas splitting rails for 
a man named Westbrook, on land now included in the village of Westbrook- 
ville, in the Mamakating valley. As he was driving in a wedge, he was sud- 
denly surprised and suri'ounded by six dusky w^ariiors. Tom caught up his 
gun, which was always \\ithin his reach, and prepared for a fight even at such 
odds. The Indians did not want to kill him, preferring to take him alive if 
they could do so. A parley ensued, in which Tom told the savages that he 
would go with them provided they would first help him split his log. They 
were so i)leased at getting him Avithout a fight that they threw doAxni their guns 
and came forward to where Tom was at woi'k. According to his directions 
they ranged themselves, three on a side, and thrusting their hands into the split, 
I)ulled while Tom drove the wedge. Instead of driving the wedge in, Tom 
directed a peculiar blow which caused the wedge to fly out, and the six Indians 




ToM CAPTURES SIX 1N1>1ANS. 



ii6 Legends of tJie Shawanguiik. 

were held by their fingers in the cleft as with a vise. He then brained them at 
his leisure.* 

At the close of one cold winter day an Indian came to the house where 
Tom Quick was stopping, complained of fatigue, and requested permission to 
stay all night. He professed to be very friendly, but Tom suspected he was an 
enemy in disguise. During the evening he casually mentioned that he had seen 
a number of deer during the afternoon, and asked Tom if he would not like to 
go with him next day and get them. Tom readily assented to the proposition, 
and they agreed to start at an early hour next morning. During the night 
Tom managed to get hold of the Indian's rifle. He drew out the charge, sub- 
stituted ashes in place of the powder, replaced the ball, and restored the gun to 
the position in which he found it. The next morning Tom detected the Indian 
covertly examining the chamber of his rifle and the priming, with which he 
seemed satisfied. This and other circumstances confirmed Tom in the belief 
that the savage contemplated mischief. 

There was a deep snow on the ground, and the hunters found difliculty 
in making their way through it. The Indian, apparently in good faith, pro- 
posed that one should go ahead and break the j)ath. To this Tom readily 
assented; and furthermore offered to be the first to go in advance, at which 
the Indian seemed greatly pleased. In this way they had proceeded a mile or 
more, and had arrived at a lonely spot, when Tom heard the Indian's gun snap, 
and the j)Owder whiz in the pan. He turned round and asked the Indian what 
he had seen. "A fine buck," was the reply. The Indian reprimed his gun 
and they went on. Pretty soon Tom heard another snap and another fizz . 
" Well, brother Indian," he inquired, " what did you see this time ? " "I saw an 
eagle sweep over the forest, ' ' replied the other as he again primed his gun. 
"Brother Indian," said Tom, "the snow is deep, and I am tired. You go 
ahead." " The Yankee speaks well," said the savage, and he sullenly took his 
station in advance. Tom leveled his rifle. " Lying Indian dog, " exclaimed he, 
" what do you see now ? " "I see the spirit land," said the savage gloomily; 
and bowing his head and drawing his blanket over his face, calmly awaited his 
inevitable fate. 



TOM QUICK'S INDIAN EXPLOITS. 

^T^OM was one day wandering through the woods without his rifle, which 

X was very unusual for him, when he encountered a young Indian 

who was armed. Tom spoke to him in a friendly manner, and they were 

soon on good terms. "Brother Indian," said Tom, "would you like to see 

* A lady residing at Westbrookville pointed out to the writei- the precise spot wliere this is siiid 
to hiive taken place. Tlie liistorian Qainlan, from wliose writings the above facts are taken, was in- 
formed that an earlj' settler had seen Indian bones at the spot, and believed the story to be true. 



Tom Qiiic/c s If id /an Jixploits. i i 7 

Tom Quick ? " The young savage intimated that he felt a strong desire to do 
so, and Tom agreed to show liim the Indian slayer. After a long walk wliich 
terminated at the brink of a higli ledge, Tom told his companion to wait a few 
moments and he would show him the person he desired to see. Tom went to 
the edge of the precipice and peered over to the highway below. Here he 
watched intently for a few minutes, and then suggested to the Indian to take 
his i^lace. The Indian cocked his rifle and hastily advanced to Tom's side. 
" Where is he ? *' eagerly demanded the red man. " There," said Tom, point- 
ing so that the Indian would project his head and shoulders over the brink in 
his desire to shoot the enemy of his race. "Further, a little fm'ther," whis- 
pered Tom. Tlie Indian hung as far over the precipice as he could without 
losing his equilibrium. Tom quickly slipped around, and gTasping the shoulders 
of the savage from behind, shouted — " Shoot me I shoot ?»e, would you I " and 
with those words he hurled the Indian over the precipice, where he was dashed 
to pieces among the rocks. 

Two Indians once surprised Tom in his sleep. They bound him securely, 
and after plundering the cabin in which they found him, set out for their own 
country by way of the Delaware. One savage, with Tom's chattels upon his 
shoulders, walked in advance; Tom came next, A\ith his arms securely tied 
behind him; and the remaining savage, with his rifle and that of his compan- 
ion, brought up the rear. One of these rifles v.'-as kept cocked in readiness to 
shoot Tom if he attempted to escape. Their route led them over a high ledge of 
rocks, where they were obliged to take a very dangerous path far up on the 
cliff. At times the path was very nari'ow, and at one point lay directly on the 
l)row of the precipice. AAHien they reached the narrowest and most dangerous 
part of the path, Tom feigned to be very dizzy, and refused to proceed further, 
although the blows of the Indian fell thick and fast upon his shoulders He 
leaned against the bank on the upper side, and shuddered when he cast his 
eyes toward the river. The savage next attempted to push him along, when 
by an adroit movement Tom got between him and the precii)ice, and the next 
instant with a loud " ugh -whoop," the savage was making an air-line descent 
towards the river. He fell fifty feet or more and lodged in the fork of a syca- 
more, where he hung helpless, and roaring lustily for his brother savage to 
come and help him out Tlie rifles fell into the river, Tom relied on his heels 
for safety, and ran i)inioned as he was with astonishing celerity for home, 
which he reached without fm-ther incident. 

Tom was in the habit of concealing in the woods the guns he had taken 
from the murdered Indians; and this circumstance on one occasion Avas the 
means of saving his life. Two Indians had captmed him, and were taking him 
off by the Grassy Brook route. His arms were pinioned with deer-skin thongs. 
It commenced to rain, and Tom was gi-atified to find that tlie moisture caused 
the thongs to stretch, and ultimately they became so loose that he could, when 
he chose, free his hands. He was very careful to conceal this fact from the 
savages. Near the path they were pursuing was a very large chestnut tree; 



ii8 Legejids of the Shawangunk. 

and in the side of this tree furthest from the path was a large hollow space. 
In this trunk Tom had shortly before concealed several guns, a flask of powder, 
and some bullets. When they reached this tree Tom expressed a gTeat desire 
to go to it, and gave such a good reason therefor that he was allowed to go. 
The Indians both stood by with guns ready aimed, to guard against, any 
attempt on liis part at escape. Once behind the tree which concealed his move- 
ments, he loaded two of the guns with inconceivable rapidity, and fired upon 
one of the savages, who fell dead. His companion attempted to get behind the 
nearest tree, but he never reached it. 

Tom was too quick for him and he shared the fate of his comrade. 

Tom Quick was often the guest of John Showers, in the town of Lumber- 
land. On one occasion Quick and three or four other white hunters had sought 
the shelter of Showers's bark roof, when a savage entered and asked to stay all 
night. He was told he might lodge there. After spending the evening pleas- 
antly, chatting around the ample fii-eplace, the party wrapped themselves in 
their blankets and lay do^^^l upon the floor. All wei'e soon asleep except Tom 
Quick, who remained awake for a sinister purpose. Vvhen the deep breathing 
of his companions announced that they were unconscious, Tom got up and 
cautiously secured his gun. In a few minutes the hunters were aroused by an 
explosion, and found the savage dead in their midst. After the fatal shot Avas 
given, Tom immediately left for the woods. As the Indians were then the 
almost exclusive occupants of that part of the country, and would avenge their 
brother if they knew the whites were responsible for his death, his murder was 
concealed for many years. 



INDIAN STRATAGEM TO SLAY TOM QUICK. 

THE owner of the cabin at which Tom was staying kept a hog. An Indian 
had formed a plan to make this hog an instrument to effect Tom's 
destruction. One night, when no one but Tom was in the cabin, this 
Indian got into the pen, and by holding the hog between his knees caused it to 
squeal as lustily as though in the claws of a wild animal. This he supposed 
would lead Tom to conclude a bear had made a- raid on the hog- pen, and that he 
would come to the rescue. But the wily hunter was not thrown off his 
guard by this ruse. He cautiously peered through a cre\ace of the cabin; the 
pig continued to keep up a great outcry, while Tom could see nothing that 
would indicate the assailant was not an animal. Presently he was rewarded 
with the sight of an Indian's head above the top log of the pen. The hog 
proved to be of the perverse sort, which the Indian had hard work to manage 
and at the same time keep a lookout for Tom's appearance. The huntei-, on 
discovering the nature of the aggressor, prepar-ed to greet the Indian's head 



Indian Stratagem to Slay Tovi Quick. 119 

slioukl it appear again. The opportune moment arrived; 11 ic ball was sent 
on its errand; the porker was speedily released, and with a wild yell of pain, 
the savage l)roke for the woods. But he had received a fatal wound, and Tom 
soon overtook him, and put a speedy end to his life. 

Once, when Tom was in a field at work, he Avas accosted hy an unarmed 
Indian, who said he had discovered something " just over there " that he very 
nmch wished him to go and see. Tom left his work, hut did not fail to notice 
the look of satisfaction on the Indian's countenance, as he started to accom- 
l)any him. This plainly indicated the design of the Indian and put Tom on his 
guard. The scheming native liad hid his gam m the woods, and hoped to entice 
Tom into the vicinity unarmed, when he could be dispatched. Tom had gone 
hut a short distance when he discovered a hemlock knot, which he thought would 
be a very good weapon in a rough-and-tumble fight. He stooped to pick it up; 
but the savage perceiving his intention, sprang upon him; and although he got 
hold of it he could not use it. A severe and protracted stixiggle ensued for the 
possession of the weapon, with varying advantage; and blows were given and 
received with the grim determination of men who fight to the death. 'I'oiii 
finally came off victor; hut he was often heard to declare that this was the 
most severe fight in which he was ever engaged. When the afTray was over, 
and the Indian lay dead on the fields Tom was so exhausted that it was with 
difficulty he made his way to the house at which he was temporarily stopping. 

Another native Indian attempted Tom's life while he was at work in the 
saw-mill. Tom, always on the alert, had been made aware of the presence and 
intention of his enemy, and so arranged his hat and coat as to deceive him. 
The Indian sent a ball between the shoulders of the coat supposing Tom was 
inside of it, at which the latter stepped out from his place of hiding and shot 
the helpless and trembling savage through the heart. 

Tom was once ranging the woods on the lookout for Indians, and came 
upon one unexpectedly. Both parties sought shelter behind trees within gun- 
shot, where they remained a long time, each endeavoring to get a shot at the 
other without exposing himself. Various stratagems were resorted to with the 
liope of drawing the other's fire, but each found they had a wary foe to deal 
with. Tom at length thrust his cap cautiously from behind the tree, Avhen the 
report of the Indian's rifle was heard, and Tom fell to the gi'ound as though 
giievously wounded. The Indian dashed forward to rescue the hunter's scalp, 
when Tom sprang up and aimed at his breast. As the Indian saw the muzzle 
of the gnu within a few feet of him, he exclaimed in dismay, " Ugh— me 
cheated 1 " and fell dead at Tom's feet with a ball in his heart. 



I 20 Legends of the Shawanguiik. 



THE SAVAGES PLAN TOM QUICK'S CAPTURE. 

AT last, exasperated beyond measure at the death of so many of their braves, 
three Indians banded together and pledged themselves they would not 
i-eturn until Tom's death or capture was effected. They lay in ambush 
all one season at one of Tom's favorite hunting-grounds; but their intended 
victim not making his appearance, the approach of cold weather compelled them 
to seek winter-quarters. With the coming of the next season of flowers they 
resumed their station and watching. A white man was one day observed com- 
ing up the river in a canoe. The Indians presently made out it was not the one 
foj- whom they were watching, but a Tory for whom they entertained a friend- 
ship. This Tory was, however, an intense hater of Tom, and had more than 
once threatened to kill him. From him the warriors learned that Tom was at 
Handsome Eddy, to which point they resolved to go, and be governed by cir- 
cumstances. 

There they learned that Tom was hving with one of his friends, and that 
he was in the habit of going into the woods every night after a cow, and that 
a bell was on the cow. The next day the three Indians went to the place where 
the cow was pastured, and secreted themselves. Towards evening they took 
the bell from the cow and drove the animal back into the woods. They then 
took their station near Tom's residence wiiere they could observe what was go- 
ing on without being themselves seen, and commenced ringing the bell. 

Just before sundown Tom started for the cow, rifle in hand as usual. As 
soon as he heard the bell it occurred to him that its ring was unusual. This 
admonished him to caution; and instead of proceeding directly toward the 
sound, he took a wide circuit, during which he encountered the cow. He now 
carefully crept forward and came up in the rear of the Indians, whose attention 
was absorbed in the direction of the house, where they momentaril}^ expected 
Tom to show himself. As Tom approached from behind he saw that one of 
the Indians had the bell, while the other two held their arms in readiness for 
the conflict. He determined to attack aU three. He passed cautiously from 
tree to tree, so as to bring them within range, with a view to kill two at the 
first shot. Before he got into position he unfortunately stepped on a dry twig, 
which snapped under his foot. Instantly the bell stopped ringing, and the 
Indians turned toward him with their rifles cocked; but he had dodged behind 
a large hemlock which screened him from view. They saw nothing but the 
cow which was quietly grazing and walking towards them. Supposing her to 
have been the cause of their alarm, they again commenced ringing and watch- 
ing. Tom then left the shelter of the friendly hemlock and reached his objec- 
tive point. He took deliberate aim, and the twg armed savages were killed or 



The Savages Plan Jo))i Qiiic/S s Capture. i 2 i 

disabled, and the hcll-riiigcr wounded, but not sufficiently to prevent his escape. 
But in his hurry lie forgot to take his rifle. 

The Indians were more exas])erated than ever when they learned the fate 
of the two braves. They organized a band of fifteen or twenty others, and 
determined to spare no efforts to capture or slay Tom. Having found his 
retreat, and a storm of rain accompanied by a dense fog favoring their i)urpose, 
the Indians were enabled to surround the cal)in of which he was the solitary 
occupant, before he was aware of their presence. 

When they had finally secured him, the joy of the redskins was unbounded. 
As night was approaching and rain falling in torrents, the party dctcnnined to 
spend the niglit in Tom's cabin. Tom's skins and other goods were prepared 
for transportation, but his favorite rifle, standing in a dark corner of the garret, 
escaped their notice. Among the things which pleased them best was a keg of 
brandy, a liquid that Tom seldom used, but of which he generally h.id a suj)- 
ply in his possessicni. They drank of it freely, and its effect soon became 
visible; the crowd grew uproarious, and menacing looks and gestures began to 
be directed by three or four of the party towards their unfortunate prisoner. 

It had been the leading object among the Indiauo to take him alive, so 
that tbe whole tribe might pai-ticipate in torturing him. It was t(j be feared 
that some of the more ill-natured savages, under thi ins])iration of the fire- 
water, would anticipate the action of the tribe and kill him on the spot. To 
put Tom out of reach of danger, and at the same time relieve all from the 
restraint of standing guard over him, it was proposed to bind him with addi- 
tional thongs to a rafter in the garret — a proposition that was heartily approved 
by all. 

From his position Tom could hear what was transpiring in tlie room l)elow. 
He overheard an animated discussion, as to whether it was best to take his scal^) 
at once, or reserve him for the torture. Tom remained in an agony of sus- 
pense, revolving in his mind, the while, the i)robability of making his escape. 
But so desjierate was his situation that hope died within him. He even medi- 
tated suicide that he might dei)rive his captors of the })leasure they anticipated 
in his torture, but he was too securely tied to admit of even tliis alternative. 
About midnight the savages relapsed into a state of quiet. So far as Tom could 
judge, they were either asleep oi- too drunk to do him any harm Ere long he 
heard the somid of steps, and some one seemed to be ascending the ladder. 
A moment afterward the head of a savage appeared above the floor. In <ine 
hand he held a brand of fire, and in the other a formidable knife. He approached 
with unsteady feet, and stood before his intended victim, with features dis- 
torted from the effects of his potations, and with eyes gleaming and snakisli. 
With knife uplifted, and his body swaying to and fro, he regarded Tom an 
instant and prepared to strike. The moment was a trying one to Tom, thus 
helplessly boimd; but instinctively he fell flat upon his face, and the knife 
passed harmlessly over him. The drunken savage, having missed his mark, 
and unable to preserve his balance, fell headlong, striking his head s<^ heavily 



122 



Legends of the SJiaivangiLuk. 



against the log wall of the garret, that he lay in a stupid and senseless heap 
upon the floor. 

Having waited long enough to ascertain the noise did not awaken those 
below, Tom essayed to get possession of the Indian's knife; but the thong 
which was tied to his neck was too short to enable him to reach it. In the 
effort to resume his erect position his foot came in contact \x\\h the object he 
sought. Having secured it, and taking the handle between his teeth he soon 
freed his ankles, and cut the thong that bound him to the rafter. He next 
thrust the knife in a crevice so that the blade projected firmly from the log; 
then, by turning on his back, his hands being tie behind him, he managed to 
cut the remaining fastenings. Once free, he got possession of his rifle, and 
having removed some of the bark which composed the roof, leaped to the 
ground and reached Minisink entirely destitute. 



EARLY SETTLERS OF THE SHAWANGUNK REGION. 

ON the shore of Pleasant lake, in the town of Thompson, Nehemiah Smith 
bought a tract of land at the beginning of the present century, built 
a log house, and constructed barracks in which to store hay and grain. 
After putting in some winter cereals. Smith returned to Southeast, Putnam 
county, where his family resided. The following February, he started for his 
new home in the wilds of Sullivan, accompanied by four of his neighbors and 
their families. His own household consisted of his wife, two children, and a 
nephew, a lad of thirteen years. 

Crossing the river at Newburgh, they there hired teams to take them to 
the end of their journey. The Newburgh and Cochecton turnpike was then 
good as far as Montgomery; beyond that point the roads had no existence 
except in name. After leaving Montgomery, they traveled the first day as 
far as the Ban^ens, where the accommodations were meagre for so large a 
party — one room and an attic. The next night they reached Thompson's Mills, 
where was a backwoods tavern. Here the facilities for entertaining travelers 
were much better. Beyond this point the road was only a line of blazed trees. 

The snow was deep, and the path unbroken; had the ground been bare 
they could not have driven their team over the route on account of its rough- 
ness. Up and down ravines, across streams, and under the sombre foliage of 
hemlocks so dark at times that the sky could not be seen, the party plodded; 
and they were obliged t(j look sharp about them to keep the marked trees in 
view. 

Slowly the jaded horses labored through the snow, sometimes sinking 
almost to their backs, now plunging over the side of a cradle hole, or stum- 
bling over the trunk of a fallen tree. When the sleigh threatened to upset, then 



Early Settlers of the Skawanguiik Region. 123 

thare was a panic aiiioiii;- tlic women and children; but it was (quickly i-eniodied 
wlien the strong arms of the men came to the rescue. Tlicy were ohHged tp 
leave one sleigh load in the woods, where the goods remained until the men 
returned and carried them on their backs to their destination. At this time 
there was no house in Monticello, nor even a line of marked trees to that point. 

Tlie dwellings of these settlers were very primitive structures, built of logs 
iWth bark roofs. Tlie floors — as soon as they could afford that luxury — were 
made by splitting logs in half, and laying the flat side uj^ijermost. The fire- 
l)laces were commodious affairs, without jambs, into which a back-log ten feet 
in Icnigth could bi^ rolled. For windows they at first used paper, previously 
I'ubbed with hog's lard — a kind of glazing that shed a most beautiful light 
Avben the sun shone on it. The chinuieys were made of stones plastered with 
mud; the same primitive cement was used in stopping up the chinks between 
the logs. When the room was lighted up of an evening by the glowing fire 
extending nearly across one side of the house, there was an air of comfort with- 
in the interior of that log-cabin that is not to be found in the most sumptuous 
apartment. And when to the music of the winds in the tall pines that gi-ew 
by the door, there are added the lonely howl of the wolf and the scream of the 
panther, while within all was safe and snug, with the children sweetly sleeping 
in their cots — the picture is complete. 

There was no ceUai" undej- the floor. Potatoes and other vegetables were 
stored in holes or dirt cellai'S close by the house. A mound of earth was 
heaped over these depositories, and it seems these mounds were a favorite 
resort for wolves. Fifty years afterwards the wife of Nehemiah Smith used to 
tell of having seen them there at night, when the moon made them visible. 
These animals were a source of great terror to the women and children, and 
their bowlings were generally continued long into the night. 

Sheep were a necessity, as their wool was the chief rehance of the settlers 
foi- winter clothing; but it M'as impossible to keep them luiless they were put 
into a safe enclosure every night. A single wolf would destroy a whole flock 
in a few minutes, its instinct leading it to rush fi-om one victim to another, 
giving each a snap in the throat, which was always fatal. 

The bedsteads were made in the most pi imitive way, with but a single post 
— let all who l)elieve that four i)osts are essential take notice— holes bored into 
the logs of the ai)artment serving the purpose of the missing legs. A bit of 
clapboard, riven frcjin the red oak, supported on wooden pins driven into the 
wall, contained the pewter dishes and spoons. The spimiing wheel was an 
essential adjunct to the family outfit, while a few chairs, some pots and kettles, 
and an eight-l)y-ten looking-glass completed the furniture. 

A majority of the inhabitants of this period were of upright characters, 
bold, energetic, and generous-hearted. Although subject to privations, their 
lot in life, as a whole, was not an unliapi)y one. Said one of them; " When I 
look back ui)on the first few years of our residence in the wilderness, I am led 
to exclaim, 0\\, happy days of primitive simplicitv I What little aristocratic 



124 Lcf^cnds of the SJiaioangiuik. 

feeling one brought with liini was soon quelled, for we soon found ourselves 
equally dependent on one another; and we enjoyed our winter evenings around 
our blazing hearths in our log huts cracking nuts much better than has fallen 
to our lots since the distinctions and animosities consequent upon the accumu- 
lation of wealth have crept in among us." The following is said to have been 
an actual occuiTence: 

In one of the back- woods settlements a visit was arranged by some of the 
ladies, by way of paying their respects to a neighboring family who lived a ht- 
tle out of the way. The lady of the house was very much pleased to see them, 
and soon commenced preparing the usual treat on such state occasions— a cup 
of tea and accompaniments. As the good woman had but one fire-proof vessel 
in the house — an old broken bake-kettle — some time would be consumed in the 
preparation of the repast. In the first place, some pork was tried up in the 
kettle to get lard; secondly, some doughnuts were made and fried in it; thirdly, 
some short cakes were baked in it; fourthly, it was used as a bucket to draw 
water; fifthly, the water was boiled in it; and sixthly the tea was put into it, and 
an excellent beverage made. Thus with the old cracked bake-kettle a dehcious 
meal was prepared, and a very agreeable " social tea " was the result 

Bears were formerly quite plenty in Sullivan county — i^robably wintering 
on the lowlands which border on the lakes, and wandering into the hills in sum- 
mer. One of Neheniiah Smith's neighbors v/as a man by the name of Bailey. 
Bruin was frequently seen passing through Bailey's premises. He seemed to 
have a special fondness for hog's flesh, and sometimes raided Bailey's pig-pen to 
satisfy his appetite. One night when Mr. Bailey was from home, Mrs. Bailey 
was putting the Uttle ones to bed when she heard a terrible squealing out among 
the pigs. She understood what that meant— a bear had got into the pen. She 
weU knew the danger incurred by going out, but she could not endure the 
thought of losing a fat pig. So bidding the children be quiet until she returned, 
she took some blazing fire-brands and rushed out to the sty, where a huge bear 
confronted her. The heroic woman shouted with all her might, and pelted the 
bear with her blazing brands, so that bruin was beaten off without getting his 
pig. Having the satisfaction of seeing the hungry intruder run off into the 
woods, she returned to the house and resumed her household duties. 

Another neighbor of the Smith's, by the name of Warring, went out one 
night to shoot deer. While chopping a few days before in the vicinity of 
Dutch pond, he liad noticed that deer-tracks were very plenty, and that two 
runways passed within rifle shot of a large rock. He promised himself some 
fine sport the first moonlight night. Such a night soon came; and, telling his 
family he might remain away all night, but that they could expect some veni- 
son steak for breakfast, he shouldered his rifle and started for the woods. In 
due time he took up his position on the rock. There was snow on the ground, 
and the bright moon overhead so lighted up the earth that he could see a pass- 
ing object distinctly. 

He watched the two runways very patiently, but saw no game, and heard 



Early Settlers of the Shaivanounk Regioji. 



'25 



no sound excei)t tlie hooting of an owl in an adjacent grove of hemlocks. TTis 
vigil was heconiing dull and te<lious; the night was waning; he was altout 
making preparations to go liomo, wlien i)at, pat, came the sound of rapid steps, 
and he noticed a dark ohject coming up the path. Without waiting to dis- 
cover what the animal was, he fired. The creature gave a howl of mingled pain 
and rage, rushed at the hunter furiously, and attempted to jump upon the rock 
where he stood. It would have reached him, and the snarling jaws would have 
closed ui)on him, oidy that he made a vigorous thrust with his rifle and pushed 
the annual back. Again and again it leaped at the man on the rock, and w^as 
as often beaten back. At last the animal, whatever it was, ran one way and 
the hunter the other. Wan-ing reached home at an unexpected hour, hut 
brought no venison. He visited the place the next morning witli his hoys, and 
ascertained by the blood and tracks around the rock that he had shot and 




MRS. BAILF-Y AM) THE BE\R. 



wounded a very large wolf. Though wolves were very numerous at the time, 
it was rare that they were so pugnacious as this one showed himself to be. 

Another settler in the vicinity of Pleasant lake was veiy much amioyed 
with wolves. They seemed to gather at a certain pond about a inile away, and 
every night would make the Avoods ring with tlieir liowling. One day this 
settler slaughtered a cow, and hung up the meat in the attic of his log cabin. 
That night the w^olves gathered in numbers under his very eaves, and the 
father being absent, the mother with tlie children went up into the attic, 
drawing the ladder after them, being greatly terrified as they heard the hmigry 
beasts leaping against the door, and snarling and snapping under the Avindows. 

The fii-st inhal)itants of Sullivan had another source of annoyance — the 
bark roofs of their cabins could not ahvays be depended upon. On one occa- 
sion, dm-ing the temporary absence of Xehemiah Smith from his home, there 



126 Legends of the Shawarigunk. 

occurred a great storm of wind and rain. When the storm was at its height, 
the roof of their house was blown away, and the family were left at the mercy 
of the elements. Mrs. Smith put the children where they would be partially 
sheltered and was diligently sweeping out the water when the neighbors came 
to her relief. 

One Avinter's night the family were gathered around the ample fire-place, 
in which glowed a section of a tree that would have put to shame the tradi- 
tional yule-logs of our British ancestors. The night was tempestuous; snow 
had been falling all day, and lay piled up in the woods to the depth of several 
feet, but within all was snug and comfortable. The labors of the day were 
over; the children were at their games; the older members of the family were 
relating Revolutionary stories and incidents of frontier experience; in short, 
the storm outside was unheeded, except when an unusual blast swept along, 
rattling the windows and cloors, and screeching dismally down the chimney. 
The hour was approaching that the family were to retire to rest, when sounds 
of disintegration were heard. The roof was giving way above them. Mr. 
Smith slowly and cautiously ascended the ladder by which they reached the 
loft — stairs were a luxury unknown at that time in Sullivan county — when 
there came a crash ! One half of the roof had slid over the outer side of the 
house, leaving that part of the dwelling roofless; and the other half of the roof, 
together with two feet of snow that had accumulated on it, had fallen in upon 
the puncheons of the upper floor. Had the catastrophe occurred an hour later, 
the rafters and snow would have fallen upon the children, whose beds were in 
the attic. This was an unfortunate dilemma for a stormy night, with a family 
of little children, and the roads impassable. Yet the family lived through it; 
and in after years used frequently to relate the incident to crowds of eager 
listeners, 

Jehiel Stewart was another pioneer settler of Sullivan county. He came 
originally from Middletown, Connecticut; he first settled in Ulster county, and 
after remaining about a year, he again emigrated, this time journeying over 
the Shawangmik mountain. He travelled down the Beaverkill, crossing and 
recrossing that stream twenty-five times before he reached the Big Flats, where 
he concluded to settle. He cut his w^ay through the woods with an axe. His 
family and household goods he transported on ox-sleds, driving his stock before 
him as he progressed. He camped out each night, improvising some tents to 
protect them from the night air and from the rain. 

One evening after he had located his encampment and made preparations 
for the night, he found that his cows were missing. Mounting a rock near by, 
he saw some animals at a distance quietty feeding in a small opening, which 
he supposed to be the missing cows. He called to his children to go after 
them; but as the children approached the opening, the animals winded them 
and ran off, making a pecuhar rattling noise with their hoofs as they ran. 
They Y)roved to be a drove of elk. 

It was during this journey that his little daughter got lost in the woods. 



Jiar/y Sc/Z/cts of the Sliai^^auoiDik Rct^ion. 127 

Niglit came, and she did not return. The father and niotlier liunted fur lu-r 
all night, and their fears were great when they heard the wolves howling in 
the woods, and also the noises made hy otlier wild animals. Morning came, 
and still no traces of the child; tliey made up tlieir minds slie had heen torn in 
pieces and devoured hy the wild Ijeasts they liad lieard during llie niglit. They 
renewed their search next morning witli sorrowing liearts and fearful forehod- 
ings, lest they should come upon her mangled remains in the forest; what was 
their great joy presently to see her coming toward them alive and well. In 
answer to their eager inquiries as to how and where she had spent the night she 
said "Alongside a log, sleeping.' With childhke faith she had gone to sleep in 
the wilderness, undisturhed hy the noises aromid her. 

Jonathan Hoyt, who, in 1804, moved into the town of Thompson, was 
another representative pioneer settler. He came from Xorwalk, Connecticut, 
and his family consisted of a wife and three children. In Ai)ril <jf that year he 
started for his new home in the wilds of Sullivan, his caravansary consisting of 
a span of horses, a yoke of oxen, and an immense hutterfiy cart. 

In the broad and flaring box of the cart were bestowed the household goods 
of Mr. Hoyt, including simdry small canvas bags filled with coin and placed 
inside the family chest. On top of all, when on their journey, were perched 
the wife and children, who climbed to their elevated position by means of a 
ladder. They first journeyed to a poi-t on Long Island sound, where the family, 
the teams, the butterfl}^ cart and all, were put on board a sloop, and in due 
time were landed at Xewburgh. 

Here the more serious obstacles of tlie journey w^ere encountered. The 
oxen and horses were attached to the cart, and the movement was made west 
ward on the Newburgh and Cochecton road. The turnpike, so far as completed, 
had been but recently made; besides, the frost was only partially out of the 
ground, so that their progress was slow. Sometimes the wheels would sink so 
deep into the slough-holes that it became necessary to partially unload the cart 
before the team could proceed. At other times one wheel of the cart would 
remain firm on the jiartially thawed soil, while the other w^ould sink to the 
axle, causing the elevated wings of the vehicle to lurch with an energy that 
threatened to hurl the women and children into the mud. So forcible was this 
side movement that the chest w^as broken in pieces, and the silver money it 
contained scattered over the bottom of the cart- box. Fortunately the box had 
been so well constiiicted, and of such good materials, that the money was fomid 
all safe when they reached the Neversink 

Towards the close of the sixth day from Xewl)urgh tlie journey was made 
down the west side of the Shawangimk mountain. Tliere at the foot was a 
broad, tm-bid, and impassable river. The Basha's kill Avas swollen with the 
spring freshet, the turnpike was submerged, leaving nothing visible l)ut the 
bridge. There was not at that time a solitary building on the western slope of 
the mountain that would afford them shelter — not even a barn. They could 
neither advance nor retreat, so the)' sjjcnt the night where they were, in the 



128 Legends of the SJiawangiDik. 

mud. homesick and heartsick, and doubtless contrasting the wikls of Sullivan 
with the pleasant home they had left in the land of plenty and comfort. 

The next day the floods subsided so that Mr. Hoyt mounted on one of his 
horses, crossed the kill, and went in search of assistance. At the west side of 
the Mamakating valley an enterprising individual had opened a log tavern. 
Here Mr. Hoyt obtained an extra team, with which he returned to his family. 
With the united efforts of the three strong teams the cart was safely brought 
over the stream. That night the family found more comfortable quarters in 
the log tavern. 

When they reached the vicinity of their new home on the east bank of the 
Neversink, Mr. Hoyt learned that the cabin he had built was untenable: the 
snow of the previous winter had broken down its bark roof, and it was Httle 
better than a ruin. The settlers informed him there was a small log structure 
on the opposite bank of the Neversink that had been used as a school-house, 
but was at that time vacant. Into this he moved his family until he could 
build another house. The tracks of all sorts of wild animals could be seen 
around the cabin when the Hoyts arrived there. 

There was a saw-mill at Katrina falls, and Mr. Hoyt commenced hauling 
white-pine lumber from this establishment. Settlers were scarce in the vicinity, 
but money was much more so; and Mr. Hoyt having brought with him a 
goodly supply of silver coin, men were found who were willing to leave their 
own farm work to get it. In two weeks' time Mr. Hoyt's new house was so 
far completed that he moved his family into it. 

For several years the wolves annoyed them very much, and he found it very 
difficult to rear cattle or keep sheep. On one occasion the wolves killed eigh- 
teen sheep near the entrance to his door yard, where he found them lying 
about on the snow next morning. It was quite common for him to find the 
carcasses of yearlings in his fields, and occasionally his cattle would come home 
bleeding from wounds inflicted by the blood-letting and stealthy brutes. 

A few years of labor brought comparative competence to the early settlers, 
whose privations for a time were very great. Here and there, throughout the 
valleys, was a small clearing, literally choked with stumps and stubborn roots; 
and in the midst of the clearing stood a little, low, bark-roofed, mud plastered 
log-cabin, with a stick-and-mud chimney, with a hole sawed in the logs that 
served as a window. Near this was a log pen, open to the blasts and snows of 
winter, in which the pioneer stored whatever of hay or grain he could gather 
for the subsistence of his shivering cattle. These " children of the wilderness " 
had no difficulty in procuring meat, as the surrounding woods abounded in 
deer and bears, Avhich could be had fresh from the shambles in a few hours' 
time. Wherever the beech-nut flourished the sweetest pork could be fat- 
tened, in which toothsome edible bears often came in for their share with the 
settlers. Wheat could be raised in sufficient quantities alongside the charred 
stumps, but to get it converted into flour was the great difficulty. It often 
required a journey of days to reach a flour miU, and then each customer was 







^'S^i^Hi^ifeSii^^ 



rl J i order yUa)->n. 



129 



required to await his turn for liis grist, wliicli sometimes consumed a day or 
two more. 

Samp and coarse meal w^ere made at home in various ways. Some had a 
heavy wooden pestle fastened to a spring pole, Avith which a half hushel of corn 
could 1)0 pounded at once. This was thought to he a great institution. Later on, 
small mill-stones, made from the '* giit " of Shawangunk mountain, and oper- 
ated by hard labor, were introduced into the settlements, by which laborious 
and tedious operation a semblance of flour could be obtained 

Even the water-mills of the most approved pattern of those times were 
cumbersome and unsatisfactorj^ affairs. One of these was put up in SulUvan 
county by a man named Thompson, and was facetiously dubbed Thompson's 
samp-mortar by the early settlers. The whole building would shake and (piake 
to such an extent when the stones were revolving that even venturesome boys 
would flee from it. 



A BORDER ALARM. 



THERE is nothing that will excite the sympathies of a border settlement 
more than the alarm of a child missing or lost in the woods. The 
uncertainty as to its fate, compassion for its agonized parents, and a real- 
izing sense of the feehngs of the little one, exposed to Indian capture, or to be 
torn in pieces and devoured by wild beasts, or to the slower process of perishing 
by cold and hunger, — all call forth the deei)est human sympathy. 

In 1810 the entire population of Bethel "-• town turned out, and for eight days 
searched the woods for Httle Johmiy Glass, and did not relinquish their efforts 
until all hope of finding him alive was abandoned. 

The lad was living with his parents near \Miite lake. His mother sent 
him to caiTy dinner to his father, who, with some men, w^as chopping wood 
about a mile away. He reached them safely and started for home, but for 
some reason got bewildered and lost his way. When the lad did not return in 
the afternoon, his mother felt no anxiety, as she surmised Johnny had got per- 
mission from his father to remain in the woods with the men until tlioy returned 
at nightfall. But w^hen the father arrived in the evening and reported that the 
lad had innnediately started on his return trip, the dreadful truth flashed ui)on 
the minds of the household 

Every parent' can imagine the scene that ensued — the distress of the mother, 
the wild energy of the father. Hastily summoning his nQarest neighbors, the 
father spent the niglit in a fruitless search in the woods, while the mother 
remaiued at home rendered frantic by tlie intensity of her grief. 

By the next morning the tidings had spread far and wide, and a thorough 

♦Quinlan. 



I 30 Legends of the Shazvanguiik. 

and systematic search was instituted— all the settlement joining in the work of 
beating the swamps and thickets. The search was continued from day to day, 
until all courage and hope were lost. No trace of the boy could be found, and 
the supposition was that he had perished from terror, cold and hunger, or 
that he had met with a more speedy and less dreaded death by being devoured 
by wild beasts, which were then numerous and ferocious. 

As was afterward ascertained, when little Johnny left the path he traveled 
almost directly from home. When night overtook him, bewildered, weary and 
hungry, he lay down by the side of a fallen tree and cried himself to sleep, 
where he slept until morning. On awakening he again started to find his way 
out of the woods, wandering at random. In this way he continued to travel 
ten days, with nothing to eat except wild berries, and seeing no living thing 
except the beasts and wild birds of the forest. 

One night as he lay in a fevered sleep on his couch of leaves alongside a log, 
he was aroused by the bleating of a deer in distress; then he heard the angry 
growl and snarl of a catamount, and knew the ferocious animal was drinking 
the blood of his harmless victim. He lay very quiet, as he did not know how 
soon he might meet with a simDar fate. 

On the eleventh day of his wanderings he was a pitiable object. His clothes 
were tattered; his body emaciated and cheeks sunken; his limbs had scarcely 
strength to carry his body about, while his feet were so sore and swollen that 
he could scarcely bear his weight on them. He was about to lie down ex- 
hausted, fu-st calling the name of mother, as he had done scores of times before, 
with no answer save the echoes of the forest, when his ears were greeted with 
the tinkling of a cow-bell. The sound gave him renewed life. It nerved 
him for one more effort. With difficulty he slowly made his way in the direc- 
tion of the sound, leaving marks of blood on the leaves at every step. He soon 
came to a clearing in which were several cattle feeding At sight of him the 
animals started for home. It was near night and he knew if his strength lasted 
he could find succor. Finally he was obliged to crawl on his hands and knees, 
and thus he proceeded until he came in sight of a house. This proved to be the 
dwelling of a Mr. Lain, who lived on the Callicoon. 

AY]ien Mrs. Lain started to milk the cows she discovered the lost boy on 
the ground near her door. She took him in her arms and carried him into her 
dwelling. The good woman had a kindly heart and a sound head, and she 
treated the wanderer as she would her own son, and with as good judgment as 
though bred a physician. She bathed him, dressed his sores, put him into a 
warm bed, judiciously fed and cared for him until he had revived sufficiently to 
ten his name and residence. News of his safety was then sent to his parents, 
who for ten days had mourned him as dead. He lived to be an old man. but 
he never fully recovered from the effects of the adventure, and ever after 
needed the controlling influence of a mind more sound than his own. 

In the town of Forestburg, years ago, there lived a little girl named Mary 
Frieslebau. She was a lovely child, full of hfe and animation. One day she 



A Border .Harm. 131 

went to the house of a neighbor on an errand with s<3me other children. It 
Avas in winter; a deep snow lay on the gi'ound, and the wood-choppers and 
luinhennen had cut the woods up into roads in all directions. In i)laying hide- 
and-seek on their way home, ]\Iary became separated from the other cliildren, 
and they lost sight of her altogether. CalUng her by name, and receiving no 
answer, the children returned without her, and supposing she would immedi- 
ately follow, did not mention the circumstances when they reached home. An 
hour or more afterward, when her parents sought for her, the children pointed 
out the spot where she was last seen; and although a score or more engaged in 
the search, they failed to find her. 

It so happened that a quack doctor by the name of Heister was living in 
Orange county, who was looked upon with suspicion by the people of this 
neighborhood where he sometimes came on professional visits. Inasmuch as 
he was seen to pass along the road with his wife about the time of IMary's dis- 
appearance, they surmised he was concerned in abducting her. Some children 
having reported they had seen Mary in Heister's sleigh, served to confirm their 
suspicions; and accordingly a warrant was made out, and the doctor and his wife 
were an^ested and brought to Forestburgh for examination. Two days were 
spent in investigating the affair by a Justice of Peace, and the evidence was so 
much against the prisoners that all believed them guilty; they were therefore 
held for tiial and were required to give bail 

A rain had meantime fallen, which carried off a portion of the snow with 
Avdiich the gromid was covered, with the result of exposing a portion of the dress 
of little Mary, where she lay in the snow with her face downward. She had 
fallen down exhausted after being separated from her companions, and was 
concealed from view by the snow which at the time was rajHdly falling. She 
had probably perished before her parents had set out to look for her. 

This chapter would not be complete did it not include the adventures of 
Mrs. Silas Reeves, the wife of an early settler of Fatlsburgh. Her husband 
manufactured mill-stones and was absent from home most of the time. ^Irs. 
Reeves was one of your true women, who met the hardships and privations of 
frontier life with a courage undaunted. At one time she traveled several miles 
to the house of a neighbor and brought back living coals to replenish her fire. 

One evening, her cows having failed to come home, she bade her children 
remain in* the house while she went after them, and told them not to be afraid 
of the dark, as she would be gone but a little while. Taking up the chubby 
l)abe and kissing it, she gave it and its little sister into the charge of their elder 
brother, a bright lad of six; then shutting and securing the door behind her, 
started on her errand. As it began to grow dark the smaller ones sho^ved 
symptoms of fear; but the little fellow was equal to liis charge. As the hours 
went by, and the mother did not return, he gave them their frugal supper and 
jmt them botli to bed; not, however, without a protest from the babe, who 
wanted to sit up till his mamma came home. Then propping himself up in his 
chair, the whole household was soon wrapt in slumber. 



1 ^2 



Legends of the Shawangunk. 



Early next morning, a neighbor in passing fonnd the children alone, and 
heard their story. The two younger were clamoring lustily for their mamma, 
while the boy was offering such consolation as he was able. The children were 
at once sent to the house of a relative to be cared for, while the neighborhood 
was aroused and search made for Mrs. Reeves. For three days the inhabitants 





MRS. REEVES AND THE WOLVES. 



far and near were ranging the woods looking for her, and when they at last 
found her, she Avas exhausted and almost speechless, having lain down to die. 
One night she climbed to the top of a high rock to get out of the reach of the 
wolves that were on her track. Here she was serenaded all night, during 
which they made many unsuccessful attempts to reach her; nor did they leave 
her until the dawn of day, when they vanished into the forest. 



SAM'S POINT, OR THE BIG NOSE OF AIOSKAWASTING. 

THE traveler in the region of the Shawangunk has not failed to notice 
that remarkable feature of the mountain known as Sam's Point. Even 
when seen at such a distance that the mountain looks like a blue cloud sus- 
pended above the earth, this promontory stands out in full relief against the 
sky. The name has its origin in one of those quaint legends with which the 
vicinity abounds. The story as handed down by tradition, and still related by 
the residents of the neighborhood, is as follows: 

Samuel Gonsalus was a famous hunter and scout. He was born in the 



Sam's Point, or the Big Nose of Aioskawasting. 133 

present town of Mamakating; was reared in the midst of the stirring scenes of 
frontier Ufe and border warfare, in which lie afterward took such a conspicuous 
part; and was at last laid to rest in an unassuming grave in the vicinity where 
occurred the events which have caused his name to be handed down, with some 
lustre, in the local annals. 

He lived on the Avest side of the mountain, a locality greatly exposed to 
Indian outrage, and his whole life was spent in the midst of constant danger. 
His knowledge of the woods, and his intimate acquaintance with the haunts 
and habits of his savage neighbtjrs, rendered his services during the French and 
Indian War of inestimable value. He i)Ossessed many sterling qualities, not 
the least among which was an abiding devotion to the cause of his country. 
No risk of his life was too imminent, no sacrifice of his personal interest too 
great, to deter him from the discharge of duty. 

When the treacherous Indian neighbors planned a sudden descent on an 
unsuspecting settlement, "Sam Consawley," as he was familiarly called, 
would hear rumors of the intended massacre in the air by some means known 
only to himself, and his first act would be to carry the people warning of their 
danger. At other times he would join in the exi^editions against bands of hos- 
tiles: it was on such occasions that he rendered the most signal service. Though 
not retaining any official recognition of authority, it was known that his voice 
and counsel largely controlled the movements of the armed bodies with which 
he was associated, those in command yielding to his known skill and sagacity. 

His fame as a hunter and Indian fighter Avas not confined to the circle of 
his friends and associates. The savages both feared and hated him. Many a 
painted warrior had he sent to the happy hunting-gi-ounds ; many a time had 
they lain in wait for him, stimulated both by revenge and by the proffer of a 
handsome bounty on his scalp; but he was always too wary for even the "svily 
Indian. 

In September of 1758 a scalping party of Indians made a descent into the 
country east of the Shawangunk. The warriors were from the Delaware, and 
had crossed by the old Indian trail * leading through the mountain pass known 
as "The Traps;" their depredations in the valley having alarmed the people, 
they were returning by this trail, closely jmrsued by a large body from the set- 
tlements. At the summit of the mountain the party surprised Sam, who was 
hunting by himself. 

As soon as the savages saw him they gave the war-w^hoop, and started in 
pursuit. Now was an opportunity, thought they, to satisfy their thirst for 
revenge. Sam was a man of great physical strength, and a fleet i-unner. Very 
few of the savages could outstrip him in an even race. But the Indians were 
between him and the oi)en country, and the only way left was toward the 
precipice. He knew all the paths better than did his pursuers, and he had 

* Duriny the spring of 1887, the writer followed tliis old war trull for a considerable distaiue, 
it being still plainly visililf. 



134 Legends of the Shawangunk. 

already devised a plan of escape, while his enemies were calculating either on 
effecting his capture, or on his throwing himself from the precipice to avoid a 
more horrid death at their hands. 

He I'an directly to the point, and pausing to give a shout of defiance at his 
piu'suers, leaped from a cliff over forty feet in height. As he expected, his fall 
was broken by a clump of hemlocks, into tho thick f ohage of which he had 
directed liis jump. He escaped with only a few sUght bruises. The Indians 
came to the chff, but could see nothing of their enemy; and supposing him to 
have been mutilated and kiUed among the rocks, and being themselves too 
closely pursued to admit of delay in searching for a way down to the foot 
of the ledge, they resumed their flight, satisfied that they were rid of him. But 
Sam was not dead, as some of them afterward found to their sorrow. To com- 
memorate this exploit, and also to bestow a recognition of his numerous services, 
this precipice was named Sam's Poipt. 

Sam had a nephew by the name of Daniel Gonsalus, who v/as captured by 
the Indians when he was about five or six years old. The savages were lurk- 
ing in the vicinity of Mamakating farms; and being too feeble in numbers or 
too cowardly to make an open attack, they sought to effect their purpose by 
making secret reprisals. One day the boy, having ventured too far from home, 
was captured and carried away. He was soon missed, and search made for 
him, but all to no avail; and after some days his parents gave him up as lost. 
Whether he had been carried off by some strolling band of Indians, or had 
become bewildered in the woods, and so perished, was to his agonized parents 
merely a matter of conjecture. 

The Indians, on leaving the valley, stopped and rested at a lake in the 
mountains, where they remained several days. The boy became the adopted 
son of a warrior and his squaw; ho formed an acquaintance with several of the 
young Indians, and engaged with them in their sports. Among other things 
they brought together some small stones and made a miniature wall. After 
this the band wandered from place to place, and Daniel lost all knowledge of the 
direction in which his parents lived. 

For a time he was watched closely; but eventually was regarded as fuUy 
adopted into the tribe, and was suffered to go where he pleased. After some 
time had elapsed, the band again encamped by a lake, when Daniel discovered 
the httle wall of stones he helped build when he was first captured. His love 
for his white friends had not diminished, nor had his desire to return to them 
abated. He would have made his escape from his captors long before, only 
that he did not know which way to go. Here was a discovery that made 
plain the way to home and friends. 

Waiting a favorable opportunity he set out on his journey, reaching the 
residence of his father safely after an absence of three years, where he was 
received by the family as one raised from the grave. 

Elizabeth Gonsalus, another relative of Samuel, was captured by savages 
when she was seven years of age. She was carrying a pail from her father's 



''Cross'' Jhirdenbui'irh. i :;- 

liouse to a field near by. Her way led throiigli l)ars; the i-ails were all down 
but the upper one; and as she stopped to pass under this, she was caught by 
a painted Indian. He so terrified her by threats that she could not give an 
alarm, and conveyed her to his party encamped near by. In company with 
other captives she was taken several days' march in a southwest course over 
the mountains and along the banks of the rivers until tliey readied a town in 
interior Pennsylvania. Here slie remained a prisoner twenty years. 

Her disappearance from home had been so sudden and mystenous, that her 
friends were in deep distress as to her probable fate. Had she wandered into 
the woods and perished ? Such instances were comparatively frequent. Had 
she been killed and devoured by wild beasts ? Such a fate was by no means 
uncommon in a country alxjunding with wild animals. Or, worse than all, had 
she been carried off to become the unwilling slave of a bmtal savage ? These 
questions had been asked for twenty long years. Her father inclined to the 
theory that she had been cai)tured by the savages, and continued, year after 
year, to make inquiries of those who had been among the Indians, in the almost 
despairing hope that he would yet find tidings of his lost daughter. 

At last he heard of a white woman wdio was with a clan near Harrisburgh, 
the circumstances of whose capture led him to suspect she might be the one 
long sought. He lost no time in searching for the clan, with whom he had the 
good fortune to find the white woman. Twenty years of a life of servitude, 
with brutal treatment, had so changed her appearance that he could trace no 
resemblance in her to the little girl he had lost so long before. He listened to 
her story, some particulars of which led the father to claim her and carry her 
back to his home. She had entirely forgotten the names of her family. "When 
taken to the house in which she was born, she went directly to the bars Avhere 
she was taken prisoner by the Indian. The shock and fright of her capture 
twenty years before had fixed the locality so firndy in her memory, that she 
pointed out the place where the Indian seized her, and gave some of the details 
attending her capture. There was no longer any doubt— the lost one was 
restored to the fold. 



"GROSS" HARDENBURGH. 

A NARRATIVE OF EARLY LAND TROUBLES. 

THE man whose crimes and subsequent history form the subject of this 
chapter was a resident of the Neversink valley. The deeds of violence 
attributed to this man are yet traditionary in that localit}', and still serve as 
themes to while away many a winter evening as they are told by the fathers to 
the younger members of the family, seated by the firesides of the log-cabins 
and cottages of tlie neighborhood. 



J 



6 Legc7ids of the Skawangunk. 



Near the beginning of the present century the people of this valley were 
agitated over the question of title to lands. The settlers had very generally 
paid for the farms they occupied, the title to which they had acquired under 
the Beekman patent, and had made considerable improvements in the way of 
clearing up wild lands, and putting up coinfortable log-cabins and barns, which 
greatly enhanced the value of the property. They had settled down with the 
purpose of obtaining a competence that would assure them a serene and com- 
fortable old age; and now they were threatened with the loss of the fruits of 
years of trial and sacrifice by a defective title. These pioneers would not look 
with favor on any one who sought to dispossess them of their farms, even were 
he a man of sterling qualities, and in possession of a valid title; but it does not 
appear that Gerard, or " Gross " Hardenburgh, who figured as a rival claimant 
to the land, enjoyed either of these qualifications. Gross Hardenburgh— we 
take the liberty of using the name by which he is usually spoken of — ^vas the 
son of Johannis Hardenburgh, and was born in Eosendale, Ulster county. He 
was of a haughty and willful temper, and greatly addicted to drink. In early 
life he married Nancy Ryerson, an estimable lady, by whom he had several 
children. 

During the War of the Revolution he espoused the cause of the Colonies 
with a devoted patriotism, and frequently imperiled his life in the struggle. 
His time, his means, and his influence were thrown without reserve into the 
scale. Quinlan, whom we quote largely, says he organized two companies of 
infantry, both of which were engaged in defending the frontier against the 
incursions of the savages, one of them being connnanded by him in person. 

At the attack on Wawarsing, in 1781, it will be recollected that Captain 
Hardenburgh hastened forward to the relief of the settlement; and having 
thrown his detachment into a small stone house, he with a force of only nine 
men bravely withstood the advance of nearly four hundred Indians and Tories. 
So stubborn was the defense of the little garrison that thirteen of the enemy 
were left dead on the field. This Captain was none other than Gross Harden- 
burgh, by whose courage and leadership Wawarsing was saved from utter 
annihilation. 

As he advanced in years his habits of dissipation grew upon him to such 
an extent, that his existence was little better than one continuous debauch, 
which tended to confirm and inflame his evil propensities, while it obscured 
what was commendable in his disposition. He became morose, impetuous, 
tyrannical and uncongenial in the extreme. It is said of him that in his old age, 
when traveling about the country, he would order the innkeeper with whom 
he lodged to cover his table Avith candles and the choicest liquors, and taking his 
seat solitary and alone, drink himself into beastly insensibility. 

OAving to his vicious and morose ways, his father disowned him, and devised 
his share of the paternal estate to the heirs of his wife, Nancy Ryerson. This 
act of the elder Hardenburgh seemed to extinguish the last spark of manhood 
that lingered in the heart of his eccentric son. 



"-Gross"' Hardenburgh. ^11 

The death of Nancy Ryerson antedated that of her hushand, and several 
of her children died unmarried; consequently the purpose of the father was 
defeated, the dissipated son inheriting the property of his deceased cluldren. 
Gross Hardenhui-h is said to have made the impious and heartless boast, that 
while his father dlsuiherited him, the Ahnighty had made all right by removing 
some of his own children. Such were the antecedents of the man who was 
about to enter upon the work of evicting the settlei-s of Sullivan. Little hope 
of mercy could any expect who were in his power. 

His controversy with his father, his wife, his children, and the settlers of 
the Neversink vallev, had the effect of arousing a spirit of antagonism agamst 
him which time has scarcely softened, nor the teachings of charity perceptibly 
modified; few, even at this late day, choosing to say a word in his defense. 
He hated his familv, and defied the world. When he at last met his fate there 
was not one left to^uourn his loss; while many could not conceal their joy that 
his presence would no longer afflict them. 

Before proceeding to extreme measures, Hardenburgh made a general 
offer of one lumdred acres of wild upland to each settler of the disputed terri- 
tory for his improvements; but the occupants of the valley met his overtures 
with de^anre They had purchased the bottom lands of the Xeversmk m 
good faith, and were not disposed to yield up their improvements for wild 
mountain lands. They behoved that Hardenburgh's claim was fraudulent; or 
should it prove otherwise, that the state would provide a remedy for the diffi- 

""" Meanwhile finding that his offers were refused, Hardenburgh instituted 
suits of ejectment against several of the settlers. Without waiting, however 
for the courts to decide the question, he took the law into his o^xm hands, and 
commenced the work of seizing upon property and forcibly dispossessing the 
inhabitants. In the fall of 1S(^C. he took six hundred bushels of gram m bulk, 
and all the gi'owing crops, from James Brush and his three sons. The grain 
was placed in a grist-mill o.vmed by himself, which stood on the site of the 
Hardenburgh saw-mill.^ Gross also o^ed a house and barn m the vicinity, 
and his son also owned some buildings there. Among the latter was a barn m 
Avhich was stored three lumdred bushels of gram, which had been forcibly taken 

from the settlers. n -, . j v 

It was not long before the mill, houses, and barns, were all destroyed by 
fire Under such circumstances it was strongly suspected that the dissatisfac- 
tion of the settlers had an intimate connection with the burning of the prop.^ty, 
and that a terrible vengeance awaited upon the patentee. Some of the Har- 
denburgh family were then residing near by, but became so alarmed that they 
soon left the neighborhood. 

During that same year it is asserted that Hardenburgh forcibly set the 
family of James Bmsli out of doors, and kicked Mrs. Brush as she went, though 

♦Quinhin's "History of Sullivan." 



138 Legends of the Shaivangunk. 

oiily three days before she had given birth to a child which she then held in her 
arms. During the absence from home of a neighbor, Jacob Maraquet, his 
family were ejected, Mrs. Maraquet being dragged from her home by the hair 
of her head. She died a few days afterward from the effects of her treatment. 

During the two years following, outrage followed outrage. Hardenburgh 
was excited to frenzy, and the blood of the settlers was fully aroused. The 
usui-per of their lands was looked upon as a common enemy, whose death would 
prove a pubhc blessing. 

In November, ISOS, Gross Hardenburgh passed through the Neversink 
valley. He was at that time seventy-five years of age. Notwithstanding he 
had led a life of dissolute habits, he was still active and energetic, and con- 
trolled his spirited and somewhat perverse horse with skill and boldness. He 
was, withal, possessed of a magnificent physique, on which neither time nor 
dissipation had made perceptible inroads: and he boasted of a weight of two 
hundred and fifty pounds. He feared neither man nor beast and appeared to 
entertain no respect for his Creator. 

Calling on his way along the valley at the house of one of the Grants, he 
made the emphatic declaration that ' ' he would raise more hell in the next seven 
years than had ever been on earth before." 

When passing along what is locally known as the " Dugway, " he noticed 
that the chimney of a house owned by him, and occupied by a man named 
John Coney, was not completed. Calling Coney from the house he upbraided 
him in a towering passion, and concluded with the remark that " unless the 
chimney was topped out when he came back he would throw him out of doors. " 
Coney immediately employed the services of a neighbor, and the chimney was 
finished next day. 

Hardenburgh spent that night at the house of his son, and soon after sun- 
rise on the following morning he started to go up the river. About an hour 
afterward he was found in the road, helpless and speechless. His horse was 
caught about a mile above. Hardenburgh was taken to a neighboring house, 
where he lingered until about three o'clock the next morning, when he died. 
He did not know that he had been shot, and tliose about him did not think best 
to acquaint him with the fact. Before he died he was heard to remark, that 
his friends had often told him his horse would throw and probably kill him, 
" and now," said he, " he has done it." 

While preparing his body for burial, a bullet-hole was found in his coat, 
and a wound in his shoulder. His friends were unwilling to admit he had been 
murdered, and were on the point of burying him without an inquest. An old 
soldier standing by, who had seen many wounds received in battle, declared 
that nothing but lead could have made the hole in the dead man's shoulder. A 
coroner was sent for, and the nearest physicians (one of them Hardenburgh 's 
son Benjamin) were requested to be present 

A crowd of people surrounded Van Benscoten's house where the inquest 
took place, and was attended with scenes and incidents almost too shocking for 



"Gross" Hardcnhu7'gh. 139 

crodonce. Some of tlieni ])rought juj^s of whiskey to make merry over the 
(leatli of their enemy, aiul Jrmikeimess became tlie order f)f the day. One, who 
had just come from butchering hogs, as he beheld tlie dead man prepared for 
dissection, exckiimed: Tliat is fatter pork than I have kiHed to-day." The 
speaker bore unfriendly relations to one of the physicians; and, while the dis- 
section was going on, he continued: "That is more than I ever expected to 
see — my two greatest enemies — one cutting the other up I ""' When the body 
Avas opened, and the heart exposed, he cried: "My God! that's what I've 
longed to see for many a day I " 

Another composed and sang an obscene and irreverent song, in which he 
described the death of Hardenburgh, the feeding of birds on liis body, and 
other indelicate details. This greatly pleased the assembled nniltitiide, and was 
repeated so often, that some can yet recite parts of the composition 

Quinlan, from whom we glean most of the preceding, says that a woman 
of the neighborhood, whose descendants are among the most respectable citizens 
of Fallsburgh, declared that " Gross had gone to — , to fee more laAv^'ers." One 
of the witnesses, on being asked if he knew who shot Hardenburgh, answered 
that he did not; but expressed regret that he did not himself do the deed, as 
" Doctor Benjamin had offered two hundred acres of land to have his father 
put out of the wa}'." 

These remarks evoked shouts of merriment from the crowd. Vain were 
all efforts to preserA'e order; decoiTim and decency were set aside; the rejoicing 
of the settlers, inflamed l)y the all-potent rum, took the form of the revels of 
Pandemonium. 

From evidence elicited at the inquest and from subsequent developments, 
it is supposed the assassins were three in number, and that they were posted 
behind a tree about eight rods from the road, where they had cat away some 
lam-els that had obstructed their view. The ball had entered the victim's 
shoulder, and passed through, breaking the back-bone; and the shock to his 
nervous system was such as to instantly deprive him of sensation. Tliis 
accounts for the circumstance of his not hearing the report of the gun. 

Several were suspected of being implicated in the nuirder, some of them 
being arrested either as principals or accessories; it is probable that a number of 
individuals in the " infected " district could tell more than they were willing to 
disclose. ^Alien the fatal shot was heard in the valley, one of the men who 
was at work on the chinmey at the "Dug- way," slapped his hands and 
remarked, " That's a dead shot 1 An old fat buck has got it now I " 

A tradition is current in the neighborhood tliat a suspected person moved 
west, who, on his death-bed, confessed that lie assisted at the nuirder, but 
stubbornly refused to disclose the name of any of his accomplices. If the death 
of Gross Hardenburgh was the result of a conspiracy involving a number of per- 
sons, the secret has been well kept; and guilty souls, blackened with the hor- 
rible crime, have gone do^^^l to the grave with the burden of their unconfessed 
transgression. After the assassination, such of the settlers as had not 



140 Legends of the Shawangiuik. 

removed from the valley, found no difficulty in making satisfactory terms with 
the heirs of Hardenburgh, Thus was ended what the old settlers termed ehe 
" Hardenburgh war," a term l)y which it is usually spoken of to this day by 
the residents of the valley. 



LITTLE JESSIE MITTEER AND TfiE BEAR-TRAP. 

T) E sure and start for home early, you know I don't like to have Jessie 

JL3 out after dark, when there are so many wild animals about. You re- 
member it was only a night or so ago that we heard the wolves howl dreadfully 
over by the creek; and I heard to-day they killed some sheep of Job Jansen's." 

Such was the parting injunction of Mrs. Samuel Mitteer, as her husband 
and little daughter Jessie set out one afternoon on an errand to the house of a 
neighbor some three miles distant. The husband bade her not to disturb her- 
self on that account, assuring her that he would be home before nightfall; and 
the little girl, first kissing her mamma good-bye, took her father's hand and 
departed in high spirits. 

They reached their destination, but were obliged to wait a short time for the 
neighbor to return. The business being arranged, the men engaged in a friendly 
chat, and the moments flew by unheeded. The sun had already disappeared 
behind the wall of forest to the west when Samuel bethought himself of his 
l)romise to his wife. Still, he did not dream of any nioi'e serious result than 
a httle anxiety on the part of the good woman; and taking his daughter by the 
hand, set out on their homeward journey as fast as her little feet could carry 
her. 

• Her meiTy voice rang through the woods, now growing dim and solemn 
\\A\h the gathering darkness; and they had already passed the Hemlock wamp, 
and were more than half way home, when their ears were greeted with a sound 
that made the father involuntarily clutch the arm of his little companion with 
an enei-gy that could not fail to alarm her. Again the sound came through 
the darkening forest aisles and . echoed from hill to hill, and at last died away 
to a whisper. 

"What is it, Papa?" exclaimed the child, whose quick glance noted the 
strange demeanor of her father; " is it anything that will hurt us ? I do wish 
I was with Mamma ! " Without deigning a reply, Samuel caught the child in 
his arms, and ran in the direction of home with all his might. 

Reader, did you ever hear the howl of a wolf in the woods of a still night — 
when some old forester opens his jaws and sends forth a volume of sound so 
deep, so prolonged, so changeful, that, as it rolls through the forest and comes 
back in quavering echoes from the mountains, you are ready to declare that 
his single voice is an agglomerate of a dozen all blended into one ? Then as you 
Avait for the sound to die. away, perhaps, across the valley, another will open 



Little Jessie Mitteer and the Bear-Trap. 141 

his mouth and auswer with a howl as deep, and wild, and variable as the fii-st; 
then a third and a fourth will join in the chorus until the woods will be full of 
howling and noise ? If you have heard this weird nnisic of the forest, far from 
home, Avithout means of protection, and with helpless beings in your charge, 
then you may reahze the feelings of Sanmel ]\Iitteer as he fled along the path 
with the speed of a deer. 

ls\\\ Mitteer hoped he might reach home before the first wolf had time to 
call the others to its assistance, as he understood their habits sufficiently to 
know these animals seldom 'attack singly. He was within a mile of his house, 
and less than half that distance from the clearing. So great was the effort he 
was making in his flight, encumbered by the weight of the child, that be l)egan 
to show signs of exhaustion; he feared lest his strength should fail entirely 
before he reached a place of safety. 

To add to his teiTor he knew by the well-knoT\m sounds that the pack had 
collected, and that the hungry brutes were upon liis track. The disclosure 
added new energy to his frame. He was a powerfully built man, and rock and 
tree flew by as he sped on in his flight. Yet his were the efforts of sheer 
despair, as he heard the din of snarUng beasts, and knew they were rapidly 
gaining in the race. 

He thought of home; he wondered if his friends heard the howhng of the 
pack, and knew that he was making a race for hfe. He imagined what would 
be their feelings when they should find his fleshless bones in the woods next 
day; and even calmly conjectured as to what would be the sensation of being 
torn Umb from limb by the fierce bi-utes. 

Nearer, ever nearer, came the howling and snarhng of the pack. He real- 
ized that his moments were numbered if he depended on the speed of his flight 
alone. By abandoning his child he knew he could climb a tree beyond the 
reach of his pursuers; but he could not do so A\dth her on his shoulders. Rather 
than leave her to her fate he would die with her— the little one whose arms 
were then encircling his neck, and whose l)reath came thick and fast against his 
cheek. Ah, that death shriek, when at last her form would be crushed in the 
jaws of the bloodthirsty bmtes— would it strike him dead ? 

"I see them commg, Papa," said little Jessie, who from her position could 
look back over her father's shoulder, "and, oh. Papa, there are so many of 
them; you won't let them hurt me, will you V A scarcely audil)le gi'oan was 
the only response. 

While every means of escape was being canvassed in the mind of the 
agonized parent with a rapidity that is possible only in times of gi-eat danger, 
he bethought himself of a bear-trap he had seen in the vicinity but a short 
time before. Coidd he reach the trap? It was worth the trial. All that 
human energy could do he would accomplish. Striking obliciuely from the 
path he bounded away. The door to the trap was raised when he last saw it; 
if still in tbnt position he l)eheved he could place the child inside and spring the 
trap; but if the door was domi, he knew he would not have time to raise 



142 



Legends of the SJiawangiuik. 



the ponderous weight, and all would yet be lost. It was a forlorn hope at the 
besto 

What is tliat object looming up directly in his path ? It is the bear-trap. 
But the door ! the door ! The shadows of the forest render the vision indis- 
tinct. He cannot tell whether the door is shut or raised. It appears to be 
shut. A few more steps will decide. Already he hears the panting of the 
brutes at his heels, and expects each moment to feel their sharp claws in his 
flesh. There is a mist before his eyes. He feels that his strength is failing. 
One moment, and — "Thank God," he cries, "the door is raised." With a 
wild energy begotten of despair he tears the terrified child from his breast, 
thrusts her through the opening, touches the spindle and down comes the pon- 
derous door with a thud. Then seizing an overhanging limb he swung himself 
up out of reach just as the jaws of tlie foremost wolf came together as he 
snapped after his prey. 




JESSIE MITTEER AND THE BEAR-TRAP. 



Now that the necessity for immediate exertion no longer existed, the re- 
action was so great that Mr. Mitteer feared he would fall from the tree from 
sheer exhaustion; to prevent such an occurrence, he tied himself securely with 
his cravat and handkerchief. All night long the wolves perambulated about 
that bear-trap and tree, and made the night hideous with their howling. It 
was a night ever to be remembered by both father and child. They were suffi- 
ciently near to one another to converse, so they could cheer each other during 
the long and tedious hours 

The trap in which Uttle Jessie lay was built so strongly that the largest bear 
could not get out after it had once sprung the door. The father had told her 
to keep as near the centre of the pen as she could, and she would be safe. 
Though out of reach of hai'm, her position was far from enviable, with the 
ferocious brutes all around and over her prison, thrusting their noses and their 



A Kiz'cil of Israel Putnam. i43 

sharp claws into tlie crevices between the logs in their frantic efforts to reach 
her. Morning came at last, but Mr. Mitteer dare not leave his percli for fear 
their late assailants might yet be lurking in the vicinity. 

The people in the village of Liberty where he resided had heard tlie unusual 
howhng of the wolves during the night, and much anxiety had been felt, as it 
was feared they were on his track; the wife and mother had been inconsolable. 
She had spent the whole night in alternately going to the door of her log cabm 
to listen to the wolves in the forest through which her husband and child were 
to return, and then throwing herself upon the bed and giving way to violent 
paroxysms of grief. Before sunrise a party was sent in search of the wan- 
derers. Proceeding along the Hurley road the relieving party hallooe<l the 
names of the missing ones, and presently were rewarded with an answer. 
Then, follo^^^ng up the direction of the sound, they came upon Mx. Mitteer 
stiU iii the tree, and little Jessie safe and sound in her bear-trap. Tlie wolves 
had gone, but had left behind abundant evidences of their visit. The father 
and child were speedily restored to tlieir friends, who had given up all hope of 
ever seeing them ahve. Though Samuel Mitteer hved many years after this 
occurrence, he ever after exhibited an almost childish teiTor at the howling of 
a wolf. 



A RIVAL OF ISRAEL PUTNAM. 

EVERY schoolboy has heard the story of Israel Putnam and the wolf. 
Comparatively few have heard of the similar experience of a lad in a 
pantlier den at CalUcoon. Without detracting from the glory of Putnam, we 
think the story of little WiUiam Lane, of Callicoon, worthy of honorable 

mention. 

In the spring of l^-t?> the track of a very large panther was discovered, and 

a party of hunters turned out and followed it to its den in a ledge of rocks. 

Closing up the entrance to the cave carefully, they went home, proposmg to 

return next day with reinforcements. 

The following dav they were on the ground and found everything as they 
had left it. They first dislodged the rocks for about twenty feet, or half way 
to the extremity of the den, so as to admit the passage of a man to that point; 
beyond this they found the hole too smaU and the surrounding material im- 
movable. A small lamp was tied to the end of a pole and thrust inward far 
enough to enable the " fiery eye-balls " of the monster to be seen. A candle 
was next placed so that the light would shine on the barrel of a ritie, and thus 
enable the daring man who attempted to shoot the panther to take sure ami. 
The first shot was fired by AVilliam Adams, who wounded the game, causing 
it to scream so terribly that every one fled from the spot, fearing the enraged 
creature would emerge and rend them in pieces. Except a few contusions, 



144 Legends of the Shawa7igunk. 

caused by a hasty scramble over fallen tree-trunks and scraggy rocks, no 
damage Avas incurred. One by one the hunters returned and obtained a furtive 
view of the scene of terror. All seemed quiet, and after a hasty consultation, 
the entrance was again securely walled up and the place abandoned for the 
night. 

On the third day all the men and boys that the surrounding country 
afforded were assembled to witness the sport. They were armed with an end- 
less variety of weapons, — rifles, shot-guns, bayonets, hatchets, axes, crowbars, 
and butcher knives. It was agreed to resume the plan of operations adopted 
the day previous. The boulders were once more rolled away from the en- 
ti'ance, and the lights properly placed. A brother of William Adams, the hero 
of tlie previous day, went into the passage as far as he was able and fired. 
The same scene followed as on the second day, the screams of the panther 
causing a panic in the whole crowd, and the forty men and boys ran as if life 
depended on the celerity of their flight. 

The company rallied sooner than on the former occasion, however, and 
John Hankins fired the third shot, prostrating the panther in his lair. But 
how to get him out wag the difficulty. None but a lad could enter; and now 
was a rare opportunity to test the bravery of the boys. One lad volunteered 
but at the last moment his courage failed him. Next a spirited little fellow 
named William Lane threw off his coat, hat and vest, and arming himself 
with a hunting axe and dirk, went into the den, accompanied by Mr. Hankins 
as far as the latter could get. While his friends remained outside in bi-eathless 
suspense, young Lane cautiously crept through the narrow passage, pausing 
occasionally to listen. The panther still exhibited signs of life, as the boy could 
see by the faint light of his lamp. As soon as young Lane was within reach 
he buried the blade of his axe in its brain, and then applied the dirk to its 
throat— a very hazardous experiment. The young hero then ended his adven- 
tm-e by hauling out the body of the panther, which proved to be the largest of 
its kind. 



PANTHER HUNTING AT LONG POND. 

NO sports are more thoroughly enjoyed by robust men than those of hunt- 
ing and trapping. The freedom from restraint; the mountain air and 
vigorous exercise; living in constant communion with Nature, with just 
enough of danger to add relish to a calling full of excitement and adventure 
—these are among the causes that lend to such an existence a char mthat no 
other life can give. 

Cyrus Dodge had a thrilling adventure at Long Pond, one of the many 
beautiful sheets of water found in the county of Sullivan. This pond was 
conspicuous, in times gone by for its large trout, and for the numbers of deer 



]\x}i titer JliDitijiir at Lom^ J\>iid. 145 

found in its vicinity. (3ne day in mid svn inner, Dodge Avent to tliis lake to look 
for deer. He sat under some huge trees that grew near the shore, waiting for 
the deer to come to the Avater. While thus engaged, his attention was directed 
to a suspicious noise overhead. Looking up he saw a large catamount <n\ a 
hml) just above him. The animal was watching him intently, as though men- 
tally discussing the relative merits of a man or deer for dinner. Believing 
there could he no merit in procrastination Dodge brought his rifle to his shoidder 
and fired. The next instant he heard a dull thud on the gi-ound at his feet, 
and saw that the turf and dead leaves were being cnmsoned by the blood of a 
panther in its dying throes. 

The repoi-t of his rifle started other hthe forms into activity among the 
tree-tops, and, as Dodge declared afterwards, he believed the woods were full 
of panthers, and realized that he was in great peril 

Knowing the aversion of the cat-tribe to water, he waded out into the lake 
waist deep. As he loaded his gun he counted no less than five panthers among 
the trees that lined the shore. They were probably a mother and her young; 
and the latter, though nearly grown, had continued to follow the old one. 
The hunter kept up a fusilade from his position in the water until thi'ee more 
panthers were brought down. The other two ran off and were seen no more. 
He then waded ashore, skinned the fom' panthers and made the best of his way 
homeward, sensibly concluding that it was a dangerous locality for deer 

hunting. 

One day in mid-winter a hunter by the name of Sheeley discovered the 
track of a large animal not far from a cabin occupied by a widow. He fol- 
lowed the track until it led to a den in the rocks. He examined the entrance 
carefully, but did not care to explore the interior alone. The next day, in 
company with a companion, he revisited the place. The passage into the lair 
of the animal was very narrow, so that a person could enter only by creeping 
on his hands and feet. Procuiiiig a sapling, they tied a birch bark to one ex- 
tremity, and thrust the lighted end into the hole. By the light they discovered 
a very large panther quietly reposing in the cave. A rifle-bnll speedily deprived 
the animal of life, and the hunters started home with their game. On their 
way they came upon the half-devoured carcass of a large buck, which the 
panther had killed, and had been feeding upon. 

William Woodward, while roaming through the woods in the town of 
Rockland, discovered a panther's den. Though entirely alone he crept into it. 
The lady of the house was not at home, but was absent foraging, leaving her 
children to take care of themselves. Woodward took up the little panther 
kittens, thrust them inside his torn shirt, and carried them hom(\ Had the 
old mother panther discovered him in the act of purloining her little ones, this 
story Avould have had a different ending. 

Peter Stewart and a young friend were once hunting in this town, out 
with no success. Game seemed to be scarce. They examined the mountain 
nmwavs, and the crossings in the soft spongy soil of the valleys, without find- 
10 



146 Legends of the Sliawaiignnk. 

ing the print of a hoof. While passing near a ledge they discovered a hole in 
the rocks, near which were a number of bones of deer and other animals. This 
they concluded was the lair of some wild beast, which was in the habit of 
bringing food home to its young. Examining carefully the priming of their 
guns, they secreted themselves within easy gun-shot of the hole, and awaited 
the development of events. 

In a few moments they saw a bear come out of the hole with a young 
panther in his mouth. As Stewart's friend was about to shoot, the other sig- 
naled him to withhold his fire. The bear quickly crunched the life out of the 
kitten, went back into the hole, and presently issued forth with another one 
struggling in his teeth. Bruin had come upon a panther family in the absence 
of the old ones, and had thought this was his opportunity. As he crushed this 
second kitten between his jaws, it gave a loud squeal. The cry was heard by 
its mother who happened to be returning home. Soon there was heard the 
sound of swift feet, and the crashing through brush and dry branches of some 
rapidly moving body. Then a large panther merged into view, with eyes blaz- 
ing and hair bristling -boding dire vengeance on the despoiler of its home. 

The bear saw the panther coming, and his animal instinct took in the situa- 
tion. He saw he was about to reap the fruits of his indiscretion. He made 
an awkward effort to shamble away, but was too closely pursued by the in- 
furiated beast; to escape he took refuge in a tree. But the tree afforded no 
asylam from the sharp claws and teeth of the panther. The bear rolled him- 
self into a ball and dropped to the ground, and again essayed to shuffle off. 
His antagonist was once more upon him; >'nnd forced to extremities Bruin turned 
to fight and a fierce and bloody conflict ensued. The hmiters were meanwhile 
lookmg on with breathless interest while the actors in this drama of the forest 
were contributing to their entertainment. However, the end was soon reached. 
The bear proved no match for his adversary, and the feline monster, fastening 
its teeth in the shoulder of his victim, with its hind feet ripped out his intestines. 
The hunters now both fired upon the panther and killed it. Then skinning 
both animals, they hung the bear meat out of the reach of wolves, and went for 
assistance to take the carcass home. 



BEAR HUNT ON THE MONGAUP RIVER. 

THE pioneers of the region of the Shawang-unk, who were, by turns, lum- 
bermen, farmers, hunters and soldiers, as inclination led or occasion 
required, were a robust race of men, fearless and active, who tlioroughly 
enjoyed forest life. Encounters with the fierce denizens of the forest were 
frequent, always exciting, and occasionally hazardous in the extreme. This 
territory abounded in wild game, and was a famous hunting-ground for both 



Bear IIiDit on the Mongaup River. i47 

wliite and red men, even after the country adjacent had settled down to civihza- 
tion. After the War of the RevoUition it is said that " John Land, the Tory,'* 
trapped enough beaver in the town of Cochecton to pay for four hun(h-ed acres 
of land. David Overton used to tell of standing in his father's door in the town 
of Rockland, and shooting deer enough to supply the family. Once he counted 
thirty of these animals at one time in a pond near the house. Five or six of 
the larger ones seemed to be standing in a circle and pawing the water with 
their forefeet. 

In the winter of 1819, three young men by the name of Burnham, Horton 
and Brown, residing in Forestburgh, engaged in a bear limit. Burnham, while 
returning from his work in the woods, discovered fresh bear tracks in the 
snow, and engaged the others to go \Ai\\ him and capture the animal. Armed 
with rifle and axe, before daylight the next morning they were on the trail, 
which they followed for several hours until the track came to a flat on the 
Mongaup river. Here the snow was very much trampled, and they judged 
the bear's winter quarters must be in the vicinity. The three commenced to 
search, when Burnham found a hole near the centre of the flat under some 
large rocks, with bear tracks leading to and from it. He caUed out to his com- 
panions that he had f omid the den, and presently aU thi-ee were peering into it, 
but could see nothing 

They then cut a pole and thrust it into the opening, when they found the 
end of the pole came in contact with some soft substance. Burnham then 
spht the end and t^\asted it vigorously against the substance, and was rewarded 
\vith some short, black hairs, which were held in the split. They had found 
the bear, and the animal was within reach of the pole. One of the men sug- 
gested they would better go home, but Burnham utterly refused to leave until 
he had killed the bear. 

His next move was to make the stick very sharp, with whicli he pmiched 
the bear with all his might. Immediately there was an angiy gi'owl within, 
^vith a scrambling of feet and scratching of claws; the bear seized the sharp- 
ened end and pushed the pole outwardly, carrying Burnham with it. Burnham 
dropped the pole, stepped back, caught up his rifle, and aimed it just as the 
bear reached the entrance. As he showed his head at the hole, Bm-iiliam fii'ed, 
and the bear fell back into his retreat. 

At first they could not determine whether or not the l)ear was dead; a few 
vigorous punches ^^^th the pole satisfied them on that point. They then tried 
to get out their game with crooked sticks, but their efforts were fruitless. Then 
Burnham went head-first into the den, and taking hold of the bear's shaggy 
coat, his companions, 1)y pulling on his legs, drew out both him and the bear 

While waiting to get breath, they heard a noise under the rocks, and 
presently the head of another l>ear was thrust forth, which speedily met the 
fate of its companion. 

It was now dusk and they were occupied with the question as to how to 
get the bear home. The feet of the smaU bear were tied together and slung 



148 



Legends of the SJiazvangunk. 



across the shoulder of one of the party. The large bear was suspended from a 
pole and carried by the other two. In this way they reached the road, a mile 
distant, just at dark, where they met a team with an empty sled, on Avhich 
they were permitted to deposit their game. On reaching home, tired and 
hmigry as they were, they would not eat until a steak was cut from one of the 
bears and prepared for their supper, 

Zephaniah and Nathan Drake, also of the town of Forestburgh, once had 
an adventure with a bear. They were out hunting and the dogs had driven 
Bruin up a tree. The hunters came up and saw the bear seated on a limb thirty 
feet or more from the ground, calmly eyeing the dogs. Zephaniah quicldy 
brought his rifle to bear upon the animal, when Nathan meekly advised him 
to be careful and make a sure shot. " Why," said Zeph., a little vexed at the 
suggestion, "I can shoot the critter's eye right out of his head." The ball, 
however, missed its mark, but it shattered the upper jaw so that the bear's 




ZEPHANIAH DRAKE AND THE BEAR. 



nose and about half of its upper teeth turned up over its forehead The bear 
fell to the ground, and the dogs fell upon the bear. The bear caught one of 
the dogs between his paws and attempted to crush it; when the other dog bit 
the black l)rute so viciously, that he dropped the first dog and turned his atten- 
tion to the other. Thus the battle went on back and forth, the animals being 
so mixed up that the brothers dare not shoot, for fear of killing their dogs. 

Zephaniah finally sailed in with his hunting knife, when the bear left the 
dogs and attacked his human assailant. The man retreated as the animal 
advanced upon him. His heel caught in a laurel bush, down he went upon his 
back, with the bear on top, and the dogs on top of all. For a brief period there 
was a lively tussle among the bushes. Every actor in that drama was in 
earnest, as much so as though thousands were witnessing the progress of the 
fight. From impulse Zephaniah threw up his hand to keep off his assailant as 
much as possible, and thrust his finger into Bruin's mouth. The bear's jaws, 
torn and mangled, as they were, closed on one of the fingers and crushed it. 



CasiuiUy on Blue Mountain . U9 

Finally, as Zephauiah was about giving uu for lost, tlu- l.ear, by some means not 
now known, was killed; but the hero of tliis bear aght ever afterward ex- 
hibited a crooked finger. 



CASUALTY ON BLUE MOUNTAIN. 



o 



XE method adopted by the early settlers in clearing up timber lands was 
by " jamming. ' ' This consisted in partially cutting through the trunks 



of a number of trees, an.l by felling some of tbe outside ones against the 
others, all woul.l be brought down, and a considerable saving of labor effected. 
In a few months the interlaced limbs would be sufficiently dry, when ftre 
would be appUed, and usually nothing but the charred stumps and prostrate 

trunks would remain. 

Other farmei-s would first cut the brushwood and smaU trees, while the 
larger ones were girdled and left standing. The latter, particularly the hem- 
locks and other evergreens, the foliage of which would remain green too ong 
after girdling, were sometimes trimmed from the top downward. This metho.l 
was adopted to save the labor of gathering the trunks into heaps for buriimg, 
a very laborious undertaking where the timber is large AVhen the limbs 
and brushwood had became thoroughly dried, and no ram had fallen for several 
days, the refuse was set on fire. If the result was "a good black burn the 
ground was ready for planting. N\nien the standing ti-mrks began to decay, 
fire was again applied, and hi a few years all was thus consumed Some imes 
however, the burning was not good, when the fallow would be abandoned and 
allowed to be overrun with brie.^ and other rubbish. These "fallow fires, 
gleaming in the spring time." are still a feature of Sullivan county 

Years ago, in the town of Liberty, there occurred an incident that is stdl 
ft^sh in the minds of the people residing in the locality. One of these aban- 
doned fallows was on Blue mountain, near the residence of N.athan Stan on. 
This fallow had come to be a famous spot for blackberries, and the children 
were in the habit of visiting the place to fill their baskets and pails with the 
fruit It was near the middle of August, and the day mild and pleasant that 
the four children of ^^athan Stanton went thither to gather hemes. A\ hile 
there one of the trees toppled and fell, and, in its fall, struck against another, 
until a number of the immense tmnks were brought to the ground. ■^\ hen the 
children heard the first sound of warning, they ran for a place of safety, onlj 
to be caught under the wide-sprea<ling branches of the trunks that were falling 
all around them. Two of the three boys were killed outright, and the sister 
was injured badly. The child.-en ha,l gone forth h.appy an.l joyous, and before 
the hour set for their return, two had met a violent death, and a third was 
dangerously if not fatally injured, by a casualty so remarkable and unprece- 
dented as to appear like a dispensation of Providence. The ,lead bodies were 



1 50 Legends of the Shazvangunk. 

extricated, and taken to the house of mourning, where soon the neiglibors 
gathered to witness the sad occasion of bereavement, and to bestow such aid 
and consolation as it was in their power to give. It was an affecting burial 
scene at the little rural grave -yard on Blue mountain, when the settlers assem- 
bled about the open graves of the Stanton children and participated in the last 
sad rites of their sepulture. 

What added to the impressiveness of the occasion, was the superstitious 
awe with which the early settlers regarded the mysterious phenomenon which 
led to the children's death. Those trees had withstood the blasts of the pre- 
vious winter and spring, and on a bright day in inidsummer, when scarce a 
breath of air was stirring, they were laid prostrate. What unseen hand caused 
them to fall ? What unknown agency in nature made those forest giants to 
quiver and reel and then come rushing headlong to the ground, when to mortals 
there seemed to be no cause ? Is it the result of some chemical change in the 
atmosphere, or are we to await a solution of the problem until the super- 
natural is unveiled to our understanding ? 

Though no one has yet explained away the mystery, it is a weU-attested 
fact that trees do thus fall. When the sun is shining brightly, and all nature 
seems to repose in the beams of the morning; when not a zephyr fans the 
cheek and no unwonted sound disturbs the ear, lo ! a monarch of the forest sud- 
denly begins to tremble, and totter, and then falls crashing to the earth. Now, 
far away, a dull heavy roar will arise: and again nearer at hand, comes the 
rushing sound of the bushy top of some lofty pine, as one patriarch after 
another yields to its fate. It seems as if the direct agency of God produced 
these effects; and the hunter, untutored though he may be, as he beholds these 
evidences of the power and incomprehensibleness of the Infinite, breathes a 
silent prayer of adoration. 



NELSON CROCKER AND THE PANTHERS. 

NELSON CROCKER was a noted hunter, of whose adventures in the 
woods many interesting stories are told. It is said that when he ac- 
companied a hunting expedition his companions felt certain of bagging their 
game. The following narrative, which is given by Qainlan, is highly illus- 
trative of early life in the wilds of Sullivan. 

Northwest of Big pond in the towii of Bethel, there is a tract of low, wet 
land known as Painter's swamp. In former times this ground was as good 
for deer hunting as any in the country; and where deer were found, panthers 
generally abounded This was, consequently, a favorite huntir g-ground for 
Crocker; but on one occasion he found more panthers than he wished to see. 

While rambling one day with l]is dog on the outskirts of the swamp, he 
counted the tracks of no less than seven of these ferocious animals. As they 



Nelson Crocker and the Pant Iters. 



\>\ 



are generally found singly, or at most in pairs, Crocker could not conjecture 
why so many were together. He followed the tracks until he was hungry, and 
then sat down to eat his luncheon. Dividing this into two parcels, he proffered 
one to his dog; but tlie latter instead of sharing the tempting meal, showed liis 
teeth, and seemed bristling for a fight witli an unseen enemy. Just as the 
hunter swallowed his last mouthful, a large panther sprang by him, ahnost 
grazing his shoulder as it passed. Crocker caught up his rifle, fired at the 
beast at random, and saw it disappear unharmed An instant afterward his 
dog was fighting another of- the monsters at a httle distance; but the dog was 
soon glad to get out of reach of the claws of his antagonist and run to his 
master for protection, 

As Crocker was reloading, he saw a third panther coming toward him. 
He shouted at the top of his voice, and it ran up a tree. This one he shot and 
killed. As soon as he could reload he caught sight of another, which he also 
shot and brought down from its perch in a tree. Here the fright of the dog, 
which seemed to feel safe nowhere but between his master's feet, and the 
screaming of the panthers in every direction, caused Crocker to lose heart. To 
get out of that swamj) without delay he believed to be his first and sui)reme 
duty. He ran with all his might for safe ground, and did not stop until he 
believed himself out of the reach of danger. 

The next day Crocker returned to the scene of this adventure for the 
pur})ose of skinning his game. While thus engaged he discovered a largo male 
panther in the crotch of a tree. He fired at the beast and it fell; but it imme- 
diately ran up a sapling until the top was reached, when the sapling bent with 
the weight of the beast until its branches reached the gi'ound. As the panther 
came down, the dog, forgetting the rough usage of the previous day, stood 
ready for battle. A rough and-tumble fight ensued, in which the dog was 
speedily whipped, when he fled yelping toward his master, closely i)ursued by 
the panther. Crocker's rifle was unloaded; and as he had no reUsh for a hand 
to-claAv encounter he concluded to iim too. A race ensued in which the dog 
was ahead, the hunter next, with the panther in the rear, driving all before it. 
Crocker expected every moment to feel the weight of his pursuer's claws on 
liis shoulders, and consequently made excellent time. Finding his rifle an en- 
cumbrance, he dropped it as he ran. Tliis proved his salvation; for the beast 
stopped a moment to smell at it, and decide whether it should be torn in pieces. 
This enabled Crocker to get out of the swamp before the panther could over- 
take him, and the beast did not seem inclined to follow him to the ujiland. 

After waiting some hours, Crocker, armed with nothing but his hatchet 
and hunting knife, stai'ted once more for the swamp from which he had twice 
been driven ingloriously. Recovering his gun, he reloaded it carefully, and 
endeavored to induce his dog to follow the jjanther's track; but he declined, 
having had enough of panther hunting. As they were leaving the swamj) the 
dog conmienced to howl. The panther answered with a loud squall, and started 
towards the hunter, repeating the challenge as it came, evidently bent on a 



1^2 



Legends of the Shawangunk. 



fight. The dog crouched close to the feet of the hunter, while the latter coolly- 
awaited the approach of the ferocious monster. When it was within one 
bound of him, and about to spring, Crocker sent a ball crashing into its brain. 
Without further adventure he skimied the game he had shot during his two 
days' hunt, and returned home. 



THE DISAPPOINTED GROOM. 

WALTER MANNING was a native of Ulster county. At the age of 
twenty he fell heir to a property of several thousand dollars. Dis- 
regarding the advice of his friends to let his inheritance remain in real 
estate, he converted most of it iato cash, and started for the west to make 
a more colossal fortune. In due time he arrived in California. His talkative- 
ness soon apprised the people of the town that he was a young man of property, 
which he proposed to invest when a desirable occasion offered. It was not 
long before a speculator, who had landed property on his hands that was 
quite slow of dividends, by dint of raiuch flattery and persuasion, convinced 
young Manning that his was just the property he required, and that it was 
certain to bring rich returns in the near future. The result was that Walter 
paid a large portion of his patrimony for the estate, and set up his pretensions 
as a landed proprietor. The next essential for house-keeping was a house- 
keeper, and Walter cast about him for a wife, A young man of reputed 
Avealth, with a large estate and money in bank, good looking and accom- 
plished, ought to be in no lack of young ladies willing to share his fortunes. 
And so it proved in the case of young Walter. Mothers with mamageable 
daughters vied with each other in their attentions to the young landholder; he 
was invited to teas, plied with calls, and in short was lionized by the female 
world generally. 

But Walter Manning, with all his wealth, his devotion to the sex, and the 
largeness of his philanthropic soul, could not marry them all. He must needs 
single out one of the number of his admirers, and content himself with the 
love and adoration of her alone, so unreasonable and circumsciibing are the 
marital regulations of modern society. Among the most beautiful and accom- 
plished of those damsels, he thought Virginia Green the most to his liking. 
She was a blonde, possessed a petite figure, bore the reputation of a superb 
dancer, and withal was an excellent conversationalist. As soon as Walter's 
preference became known, lie was no longer invited to afternoon tea-parties. 
The mothers of marriageable daughters were fain to i)ass him unrecognized. 
But if he had lost caste in the eyes of the feminine public, he was more than 
compensated by the smiles and caresses of Virginia Green. Not a day passed 
but he was found in her society; and what his passion overabounded in intensity, 



TJic Disappointed Groom. 153 

her affection countei balanced in devotion. Tii short they became engaged. 
And now tliat the matter was settled, \s\\y delay the day of imptials ? When 
love was so fervent, the mansion in want of a mistress, and a bachelor heart so 
much distressed for lack of a ministering angel, procrastination was a loss to 
all concerned. Walter pressed his suit for an early wedding, and the young 
lady, after a show of reluctance which amounted to nothing, a[)peared to bend 
to his desires. 

"But," said the young lady, "you know that fortune is fickle, more in- 
constant even than affection. Why not bestow upon your future Avife a mar- 
riage portion! It will be yours to enjoy as though held in youi- own name, 
and should fortune fail you, you will have something saved fn^m the wreck, 
to fall back upon. Besides, it will be a slight token of the sincerity of your pro- 
fessions of love to me." " That I will readily do," said Walter. " I'll give you 
the deed to this estate, to be given you at the altar on the day of your nuptials, 
to be celebrated at the parish church next Thanksgiving Day, two months 
hence;" to which she assented in tones of never-dying affection. 

Now foUo^ved the busy note of preparation. Numerous journeys to the 
metropolis, a half score of milliners, dressmakers, hair-dressers, and assistants 
were found necessary to bring out a trousseau suitable for the future misti-ess 
of Redwood HaU. The coming wedding absorbed the talk of the town: and 
Walter thought himself fortunate in that he could now revenge himself for the 
slij^hts of his former admirers, by leading the most beautiful of them all to the 
altar. Ev^ry body received cards of invitation, and no less than three clergy- 
men were invited to be present, that there might be no hitch in the ceremony. 

Thanksgiving Day arrived at length, and a most auspicious day it proved. 
The air was bland, the sun shone brightly, and nature seemed to don a holiday 
attire in keeping with the occasion. The church was gaily trimmed; carpets 
Avere spread from the doors to the carriage-way, and the pcAvs were literally 
crammed with people clad in fashionable attire. The organ pealed forth its 
most joyous wedding march, and presently a flutter in the audience showed 
that the contracting j.arties had arrived. As the bride swept up the aisle, a 
bewilderment of feathers, lace and white satin, a murmur of admiration ran 
through the entire assembly. And, too, the manly bearing of Walter was such 
as to cause a perceptible flutter in the hearts of more than one damsel present. 

As they took their places in front of the altar, and just as the highest flour- 
ish of the Wedding March was reached, Walter took a package from his pocket 
and gave it to the woman at his side. It was the deed of Redwood Hall, made 
over to Virginia Green, made to her before she was his bride, as a husband may 
not transfer real estate to his wife. 

The last notes of the organ died away in senn(iuavers among the arches of 
the ceiling when the minister stepped forward and in solemn tones said, "Let 
the parties join hands." a.nd in a moment continued, " If any one have reason- 
able objection to the marriage of Walter ^Faiming and Virginia Green, let liim 
210W make it known, or forever hold his peace." 



1^4 Legends of tJic Shawangunk. 

A pause ensued in which tlie silence became oppressive. Presently a voice 
was heard. It was that of a young man in the rear of the audience. " I object 
to the bans. ' ' All eyes Avere turned in the direction of the speaker. ' ' State the 
grounds of your objection," said the officiating clergyman with forced com- 
posure. " On the ground that the lady at the altar is already my wife," was 
the calm reply. And then all present knew a wrong had been done that robbed 
Walter Manning, in one moment, of a bride and an estate. In one hour's time, 
the disappointed groom had arranged his pecuniary affairs, and was on his way 
Avitii the remains of his fortune to his home in the east. 

The statements in the foregoing narrative are based on facts. The names 
only, for obvious reasons, are fictitious. 



NEW PALTZ. 



ON the 2r>th of May. 1077, an agreement with the Esopus Indians was made, 
pursuant to a Ucense from the Hon. Governor Edmund Andros, dated 
28th of April, K377, concerning the purchase of land " on the other side of the 
Rondout kill," known in history as the " Paltz Patent." 

Matsayay, Wachtonck, Senerakan, Mayakahoos and Wawawanis acknowl- 
edged to have sold Lewis Du Bois and his associates the land within the follow- 
ing boundaries: Beginning at the high hill called Moggoneck [Mohoiik], thence 
southeast toward the Great river to the point called Juffrow's hook in the 
Long beach, by the Indians called Magaat Ramis [point on Hudson river on 
line between the towns of Loyd and Marlborough]; thence north along the 
river to the island lying in the Crura Elbow at the begimiing of the Long Reach, 
by the Indians called Raphoos [Pell's island;] thence west to the high hill at a 
place called Waraches and Tawaeretaque [Tower a Tawk, a point of white 
rocks in the Shawangunk mountain]; thence along the high hill southwest to 
Maggoneck, including between these boundaries, etc." This tract the Indian^j 
agreed to sell for the goods specified in the following list: 

40 kettles, 4(» axes, 40 addices, 40 shirts, 100 fathoms of white wampum, 
100 bars of lead, 1 keg of powder, 60 pairs of socks, 100 knives, 4 ankers of 
wine, 40 guns, 60 duffel coats, 60 blankets, 1 schepel of pipes, etc. 

Having thus extinguished the Indian title to this tract by the present of 
articles vahied by the red man, the settlers of New Paltz enjoyed a comparative 
immunity from savage outbreak during the early Avars. In order to arrive, 
however, at a more complete understanding of the history of this settlement, 
reference wiU be made, in brief, to an event in the chronicles of the old world. 

The French Protestant Huguenots were celebrated for their love of Hberty 
and zeal for their chosen religion. Persecutions against them were temporarily 
abandoned during the reign of Henry IV, King of Navarre, from 1589 to 1610, 







FIVE SUCCESSIVE CHURCH EDIFICES OF THE DUTCH REFORMED CHURCH AT NEW PALTZ. 




SIX STONE DWELLINGS .IN NEW PALTZ, N. Y.,'.BUILT SOON AFTER 1700. 



Nezv Pa It 2. 155 

esi)ecially after he proclaimed the celebrated Edict of Nantes in i'A)'6. Louis XIII 
repeatedly violated its stipulations; and a formal revocation of the Edict was 
made in 1G85, which cost the hves of 10,000 of the Huguenot people, who per 
ished at the stake, gibbet, or wheel. Thousands fled t(j other lands for refuge, 
especially to the Ijower Palatinate, or Pfaltz, along the river Rhine. Some of 
the persecuted Hollanders likewise fled to the Lower Palatinate, and when they 
subsequently returned to Holland the Huguenots accompanied them, and both 
finally emigrated to America. These two peoples were attracted to each other 
by reason of their adoi)tion of the same religion, and this fellowship was ren- 
dered still more firm in consequence of the free intermarriage among them. 
This accounts for the presence of Dutch physiognomies with French names, 
observable, even at the present day, among the congregations in localities 
where are found the posterity of the once persecuted Huguenots. . 

There seems to be no definite information as to the course the Huguenots 
took in coming to America. They were hospitably received bv the Dutch at 
Wilt\\'yxk, or Wildwyck, the modern Holland for wild retreat, or wild parish, 
from its primitive and rough appearance. Soon after the granting of the New 
Paltz patent the Huguenots set out for their new home in the "vWlderness. 
Their weary way lay through the trackless forests; and their families and 
household goods were conveyed in wagons so constracted as to answer the 
double purpose of transportation and shelter. Arriving at a broad meadow on 
the banks of a limpid stream they named the place " Tri-Cors," Three Cars, in 
aUusion to tlie three primitive vehicles in which the possessions of the exiles 
were transported. The river itself they named AValkill, probably from Wad, one 
of the branches into which the Rhine divides itself before emptying into the 
North Sea, and Kill, the Dutch for river; while to the settlement was given the 
appellation of New Paltz, in remembrance of their ever dear Pfaltz— their 
ancient home on the Rhine. Here, in the midst of the beautiful alluvial valley, 
the ciystal waters of the river at their feet, the blue dome of heaven above them, 
and the towering hills a gallery of attendant witnesses, the Huguenot refugees 
opened the Bible brought from their old homes, read a lesson from the holy 
book, and with faces turned toward France, joined in a hearty and joyous 
thanksgiving to the God that had led them safely thus far, and had permitted 
them once more to breathe the air of religious freedom. 

The first conventional act having been that of public worshi}), it was resolved 
that their first building should be a church. This was built of logs, and was 
also used as a school- house. Temporary residences were at first i)ut up o\\ the 
west bank; but the Indians advise<l their removal to the higher ground on the 
opposite side, as the place first chosen was subject to overflow during the 
spring freshets. 

From a minute in French, still in i)ossession of the church, we find that 
on January 22, isr.3, ]\r. Pierre Daille, Minister of the Word of God, arrived 
and preached twice at New Paltz. He proposed that the people choose, by a 
vote of the fathers of families, an elder and a deacon, to aid the minister in the 



1^6 Legends of the Skawangiuik. 

maiiageraent of the church. Tliey chose Lewis Du Bois, elder,, and Hugh Frere, 
deacon. Thus was organized the Walloon Protestant Church of New Paltz, 
and for fifty years service was held in the French language. But the Holland 
tongue had become the vernacular in Ulster and adjacent counties, and gradually 
became adopted by the Huguenot settlers of New Paltz. The first Dutch entry 
in the church bears date of the 6th of July, 171S. During the period interven- 
ing between 1709 and 1730, there was no stated sui)ply at New Paltz: the earnest 
Christians were obliged to go to Kingston to attend preaching — wliither they 
often went on pious pilgrimage. 

Rev. Stephen Goetschius accepted a call from the congregation, at New 
Paltz and New Hurley. His ministry healed the breach that threatejied to 
disrupt the church at New Paltz. He is described as small in stature, and bent 
in form. He boarded at the house of Lewis Du Bois, and married his daughter. 
He was a sound preacher, and occupied a high place in the estimation of his 
people. His vacant Sabbaths were spent at Wawarsing. At that time the 
Indians were visiting the defenseless inhabitants with fire and slaughter. 
Goetschius writes of preaching in a pulpit cut and disfigured by the tomahawks 
of the savages; the church itself showing evidences of having been set on fire 
by the same agency, but which providentially went out. He further writes: 
"At the close of the war I perceived there were places where new congrega- 
tions might be gathered. I did undertake to collect the people together, and 
under the blessing of God organized nine churches." At that time Goetschius 
was the only minister in the Dutch church in Ulster. 

The log church was soon found to be unequal to the demands of the grow- 
ing colony. Anew church was built of stone, "of small dimensions," the 
records say, "and finished with brick brought from Holland. Its form was 
square, each of the three sides having a large window, and the fourth a door 
inclosed by a portico. In the centre of the steep and pointed roof was a little 
steeple, from which a horn was sounded for religious services." This was dedi- 
cated December 29, 1720. October 25th, 1771, it was resolved to erect a third 
house of worship. The site of this edifice corresponds nearly with the location 
of the present church, and is described as having been a ' ' substantial, well- 
proportioned stone building, v^ith a hipped roof, surmounted witli a cupola, and 
a bell." The building was dedicated in 1773. The old square church was 
broken down, and the material used in the construction of a school-house, 
which was afterward converted into a residence. It is worthy of note that both 
churches were built while the people were without a pastor. 

It was during the ministry of Rev. Douw Van Olinda, a gentleman of 
marked executive ability, that the New Paltz academy was erected and put 
into active operation : and he was largely instrumental in carrying forward the 
project to a successful termination. During his pastorate the third church was 
taken down and a new brick clmrch erected on its site, which constitutes the 
eastern extension of the present house of worship. 

There were twelve original proprietors of the New Paltz pa,tent. These 



Nccddcrduytsc Taal I'c Sckazuaji/conk. \^j 

twelve patentees exercised tlie governmental control of the colony, one of their 
nuinher i)residing, constitnting what was known as the " Dusine," a primitive 
form of civil administration, ont of which sprang the Town Meeting of New 
England. Most of them constructed suhstantial stone dwellings along one 
street, now known as Huguenot street. Six of these stone edifice's are yet 
stan(hng, and are shown in the accompanying illustrations. Tl le Ih )lland bricks, 
the quaint little Dutch windows with glass set in lead, and the ancient port- 
holes in the walls of the houses, are yet shown to curious visitors, and yearly 
attract scores of antiquarians to the locality. 



NEEDDERDUYTSE TAAL TE SCHAWANKONK. 

LOW DUTCH CHURCH OF SHAWANGUNK. 

THE Reformed Church of Shawangunk was organized in IT.")!*, and the 
present church edifice — the oldest in the consistory — was built the same 
year. The society first worshipped in the "Owl house," a temporary stnict- 
in-e near the kill. Johannis Mauritius Goetschius came over from Switzer- 
land and organized the infant church in the wilderness. Barent Fi-ooman, a 
native of Schenectady, was called to the pastorate at Shawangunk, New Paltz 
and Walkill [Montgomery], February 4th, 1751. He was sent that same year to 
the University of Utrecht, where he remained two years. He started home in 
company with Jacobus and Ferdinandus Fi'elinghuysen, and Johannis Schune- 
man. The first tAvo died on shipboard of small-i)ox. Frooman preached at 
XeAv Paltz August 20, 1753, at Shawangunk September 2, and at Walkill 
[Montgomery] September 0. No record is given of any installation. His salary 
was fixed at £00, one -third to be raised by either church. He lived at Sliawan 
gunk, now Bruynswick, a house and one hundred acres of land having been set 
apart there for his use. He married Alida, daughter of David Vanderhyken, 
of Albany. He was called to Schenectady in 1754, and died at that place in 
17S4, in the sixtieth year of his age. 

Rev. Johannis Mauritius Goetschius was born in the Canton of Thorgan, 
Switzerland, in 1724. He studied and practiced medicine before he entered the 
ministry, but Avas drawn to the study of theology and ])egan to preach without 
due authority in 1754. He was a warm advocate of the Coetus principles, and 
three years later was called to the pastorate at Scoharie at a salary of £60, par- 
sonage house, one farm, and 40 schej^els of Avlieat. 

Goetschius was called to Shaw^angunk and New Paltz in 17t;<». He lived 
in the Shawangunk parsonage, then one stor}' high, and was paid a salar}^ of £80. 
one-half borne by each church. He died at the parsonage March 17. 1771, of 
dropsy. He was long sick, and was a great sufferer. He i)reached the last 
time at New Paltz September 1>. 177o. During the ten years of his ministry he 



1 58 Legends of the S/iawangiink. 

baptized 320* persons at Shawangunk, and married 75 couples; at New Paltz 
he baptized 212 persons, and performed -11 marriage ceremonies. He was buried 
under the pulj)it of the Shawangunk church, in accordance with the ancient 
custom of the society, where his ashes still repose. His widow, Catherine Hager, 
continued to live at Shawangunk, and married her husband's successor, Rev, 
Rynier Van Nest 

Van Nest, the third minister, was early converted, but studied late in 
life for the ministry. He was for several years clerk in a country store at 
Bound Brook. He was licensed by the Synod of Kingston October 7, 1773, 
receiving his call to preach at Shawangunk and New Paltz April 16, 1774. His 
stipulated salary was £00 and parsonage; New Paltz was to pay £20, and the 
service was to be divided accoi-dingly. The records say he baptized 384 persons 
at Shawangunk, and 45 at New Paltz. His labors seem to have extended to 
Montgomery, where he performed 307 baptisms. His pastoral connections were 
dissolved by the Classis in April, 1785. His personal appearance is described as 
follows: height, five feet, ten inches; fleshy as he advanced in age; wore a wig, 
and was very neat and particular in dress; possessed regular features, with a 
somewhat prominent nose; he spoke with a loud voices and was considered a 
good preacher wdien speaking in Dutch, but never succeeded well in English. 
He was held in high estimation. The fourth minister was Rev. Moses Freligh, 
wdio was licensed to preach in 1787 by the Synod of New York city, called 
to preach at Shawangunk and Montgomery February 20, 1788, and was ordained 
in the Shawangunk church the same year by Rev. Blauvelt Rysdyk, Steven 
Goetschius and De Witt. First baptism at that place was a child of George 
Upright and Maria Rhinehart; first baptism at Montgomery, a child of William 
Christ and Elizabeth Decker. Freligh married Sara,h Varick, of New York, in 
1788, and died at Montgomery February 10, 1807, at the age of 54 years. 

Rev. Henry Polhemus next succeeded to the ministry. He was born at 
Harlingen, N. J. ; was licensed by the Classis of New York in April, 1798; called 
to Shawangunk January 23, 1813; installation service June 13th of that year. 
Rev. Moses Freligh preaching the sermon. Polhemus died in November, 1815. 
He had been to N ew Jersey, and on his way home was attacked with bilious 
fever. His remains were deposited under the pulpit, along with those of 
Goetschius. 

The next in succession was Rev. G. B. Wilson, who was licensed by the 
Classis of New Brunswick, and was called to Shawangunk and Paughcaugh- 
naughsink [New Prospect] in January, 1810. He was dismissed in 1829 on 
account of feeble health. The follo^ving is a list of ministers up to the present 
time, with the date of settlement; Henry Mandeville, 1831; John H. Bevier. 
1833; JohnB. AlUger, 1845; Charles Scott, 1851; Cyril Spaulding, 1808; P. K. 
Hageman, 1882. 

The stone edifice of this church has been subjected to changes suggested 
by modern taste. The ancient pulpit, beneath which the remains of the two 
faithful pastors, Goetschius and Polhemus, were deposited, was located on the 



The Traps. 1 59 

north side of the l)iiilding, and the entrance was opposite the pulpit. An ex- 
tension, surmounted hy a spire, and jjartially enclosing the present entrance to 
the huilding and a stairway to the gallery, has more recently heen added to the 
west end, and the i)ulpit moved to the east side of the structure. 



THE TRAPS. 



THERE is a singular and romantic formation on the top of the Sliawan- 
gunk mountain known as The Traps. Quite a village has sprung up 
Avithin its sheltering bosom, and boasts of a hotel, store and chapel. Benj. 
Burger and his wife Helena were among the first settlers. They put up 
a log" cabin and commenced housekeeping in a primitive way. At first 
the AA-ild animals were so fierce that fires had to be kept at night as a protection 
to their cattle. A colt was killed by the blood-letting brutes, and the mare was 
badly bitten and torn. Burger sometimes worked for the farmers in the valley, 
and when he returned home at nightfall he was obliged to carry a torch to keep 
off the wolves. He used to tell of seeing their teeth as they gathered about 
him in tlie darkness and followed him up the mountain, gTowling and snarhng, 
3"et keeping at a safe distance through fear of his blazing pine knots. 

On the east side, near to the highway leading over the mountain, there still 
stands a straggling building known as The Traps Tavern. ]\Iany years ago, a 
number of young men from the vicinity of High Falls were at this tavern, and 
were having a grand frohc. Their visit was protracted far into the night; and 
as the company seemed in no humor to depart, one of their nnml»er named Hill 
determined to go home. So, mounting his horse, he set out alone over the 
mountain road. While passing leisurely down on the opposite side, his horse 
began to i)rickup his ears, and exhibit other symptoms of alarm; and presently 
young Hill detected the stealthy tread of some animal that was moving in the 
underbrush by the roadside. He at last awoke to the fact that wolves were on 
his track; and, giving the rems to his horse, the frightened animal went galloi>- 
ing down the inigged mountain road at a breakneck speed. The iron shoes of 
his horse sent the sparks flying at every step; and the clatter of hoofs, the 
shouts of the rider, and the sharp quick cries of the wolves in close pursuit, 
stai-tled the night air and awoke the sleeping echoes among the mountains. A 
false step, or a failure to retain his seat, and all would have l)een over for young 
Hill. In this way the cavalcade went dashing down the defiles, and finally 
brought up before another hotel at the foot of the mountain. Here the pack 
turned off into the forest, and the panting horse and terrified rider sought tlie 
friendly shelter of the hostelry until morning. 

Some thirty years since the neighborhood of The Traps was the scene of a 
starthng tragedy. Ben. Goshue, a man of middle age and married, became 



i6o Legends of the Sliaivangunk. 

intimate with a young mulatto giii by the name of Maria Cross. One Sabbath 
afternoon he invited her to take a walk, and their rambles led them along the 
brink of one of the dizzy precipices with which the locality abounds. Arrivv.(l 
at a point of the rocks where the crag juts out three hundred feet in perpen- 
dicular height over the base, Ben remarked to his companion that he knew 
where was an eagles' nest, and asked if she would not like to see it. Stepping 
aside he went to the brink, and, holding by a small sapling, leaned forward 
over the frightful chasm until he could see the face of the precipice. Presentl}' 
he called out that he could see the nest, and that there were some young eagles 
in it. Unsuspicious of treachery, Maria took his place, and leaned over the 
edge as far as she dared, but failed to see the nest. " Stand a little nearer," 
said Ben, " I will not let you fall." So, taking his hand, she took a step for- 
ward until her head and shoulders hung over the beetling crag; at this moment 
Ben loosened his hold, gave her a gentle push, and, with a piercing shriek, 
the girl went over the precipice. 

Providentially a hemlock tree grew out of the face of the rock, near to the 
bottom, into the thick branches of which the girl chanced to fall. The momen- 
tum of her descent was thus broken, so that she was not killed by the shock 
when she struck at the foot of the precipice. She managed to drag herself the 
distance of a few yards, where she lay in her agony until morning. 

During the night she observed a light moving among the rocks v/here she 
fell, as though a lantern were being borne in the hand of some person there. 
Maria came to the conclusion it was her seducer and would-be murderer, 
searching for her mangled body. In the belief that Ben would yet kill her if 
he found her alive, she lay very quiet; and her visitor, after clambering a long 
time among the rocks, went away. In all probability it was Ben Gosline, who 
had come to remove all traces of his double crime. He doubtless concluded 
that she had escaped alive, or that some one had discovered and removed the 
body; in either case his only safety lay in immediate flight. Ben was never 
seen in the vicinity afterward. 

The next morning, by dint of great exertion, Maria crawled over the broken 
ground towards the nearest house, when her cries of distress were fortunately 
heard. When found she was nearly exhausted, and her bowels trailed upon the 
ground as she urged her way along. Strange to say, she recovered from the 
effects of her fall; and it is believed is yet hving in comfortable circumstances. 
Her child, born not long after the above adventure, lived to grow to maturity. 
The incidents of the attempted murder, and her miraculous escape from instant 
death, form themes yet fresh in the minds of the residents of the locality. 

One day, late in autumn, the Avife of Calvin Burger thought she heard the 
whir of a rattlesnake under the floor of their log cabin. She told her husband 
of the circumstance on his return, but he affected to believe she must have 
been mistaken. The snake continued to sound his rattle every day duiing the 
winter, whenever the heat from the stove warmed his snakeship into some- 
thing Hke life; still the husband maintained at least an outward show of in- 



The J raps. i6i 

credulity, kiunving that any other course on his ])art would necessitate the 
taking up of the floor to searcli for the snake, or removing from the cahin. At 
length there came a mild day in spring. It chanced that Burger was ohliged 
to he away from home on that day, hut he directed his wife to watch for the 
snake, as he would most likely come out into the sunshine. Mrs. Burger kept 
a close watch, and was rewarded by seeing a large rattlesnake crawl out 
through a chink in the foundation wall of her cabin. She found means to dis- 
patch it, and proudly exhibited the remains of her late unwelcome guest to her 
husband on his return. The snake proved to be one of the largest of its species. 

In the vicinity of The Traps are vast crevasses in the rocky ledges, some oi 
them of unknown depth. These fissures vary in width from a few inches to as 
many feet, and constitute a feature of the natural scenery of the region. Table 
Eock is a cliff that apparently has been partially detached from the parent 
mountain by some com^lsion of the past, but still maintaining its position, and 
rearing its head high among the surrounding elevations. At an early day an 
active and intrepid hunter by the ]ianie of Decker chased three deer to the edge 
of the precipice, two of which leaped from the rocks and were dashed in pieces at 
the bottom. The third, a huge buck, took up a position on Table Rock, and 
facing about, boldly defied his pursuer. Decker had thrown down his rifle in 
the haste of his pursuit, and had nothing but his hunting knife. Undaunted, 
he closed in with the buck, and a desperate conflict began Grasping the deer 
by the horns. Decker essayed to cut the animal's throat. The latter attempted 
to throw off his assailant, repeatedly lifting the hunter from his feet, at times 
suspending him over the brink of the precipice, so that he hung danghng by 
the buck's horns. Again the hmiter was obliged to exert his strength to pre- 
vent the deer from falling over. Long and uncertain the battle waged; at 
leng-th the courage and agility of the hunter prevailed, and the life-blood of 
the buck reddened the face of the rock. 

At the foot of the mountain, near The Traps, many years ago, lived a man 
by the name of Evans. In his emi)loy was a negro boy named Jed, some nine 
or ten years of age. One afternoon Jed was sent up in the back lots to bring 
home the cows. Not returning after the usual absence, Evans went to look 
for the lad, and was honified to find him Ixnmd to a bai- i)ost in a standing 
position by a huge black snake, and stone dead. The snake had i>robably 
attached himself to the post, and, as the boy attemi)ted to pass through, it had 
taken a turn around the lad and squeezed liini to death. 

11 



1 62 Lege7ids of the Shawangunk. 



SHANKS BEN. 

JOHN MACK was an old resident of Wawarsing. John Mentz, his son-in- 
law, lived on the east side of the mountain. The only communication 
between the two families was by an Indian trail leading over the moun- 
tain, known as the Wawarsing path. Some time during the Revolution Mack 
started on a visit to his daughter, Mrs. John Mentz, accompanied by his 
younger daughter, Elsie. On their way they called at the house of a neighbor. 
While there, Elsie, who was dressed in white, catching a view of herself in the 
glass, declared that she "looked like a corpse." i\.s she was of a vivacious 
temperament, the remark impressed itself on the minds of her friends, some 
regarding it as a premonition of some evil that was to befall her. Without 
further incident they accomplished their journey, and made the contemplated 
visit. 

On their return, John Mentz accompanied them as far as the top of the 
mountain, with two horses for the old man and his daughter to ride. Mentz 
proposed taking along his rifle, but was dissuaded from so doing by Mack, who 
thought it was not necessary. On arriving at the summit where they were to 
separate, the father and daughter dismounted, the former seating himself upon 
a log and lighting his pipe. Presently strange movements of the horses indi- 
cated they saw something unusual: and looking down the path over which 
they had just come, Mentz saw two Indians advancing, while a third, whom he 
recognized as the notorious Shanks Ben, was taking a circuitous route through 
the woods, so as to get in advance of them. 

Mentz understood the significance of this movement, and realized the 
danger of their situation. He bitterly regretted he had not followed his own 
counsel, and brought along his rifle. He might easily have killed the two 
Indians in the path at a single shot. He had formerly been on intimate terms 
with Shanks Ben. They had hunted in company, and together had engaged 
in the labors of the farm; but a quarrel about a dog, and the bitter feeling en- 
gendered by the war, had contributed to destroy their friendship, and they were 
now sworn enemies. The old man, knowing it would be vain for him to attempt 
•escape, sat still, resigned to his inevitable fate. Mentz started with Elsie in a 
direction designed to elude pursuit; coming to a precipice, he was obliged to 
leave the girl, in spite of her earnest entreaties that he would not abandon her, 
and save himself by jumping off the ledge some twenty feet in height. In his 
leap he injured his ankle badly, but succeeded in making good his escape. 
Mentz said he might have saved the girl had it not been for a little dog that 
followed them and kept constantly barking. 

When Mentz came in sight of Colonel Jansen's, he saw a number of men 
collected there. A relief party was immediately made up and dispatched to 



S/lclJ/ks Jicil. 163 

the mountain, wliere they found the Ixxhes of the old man and hloomiuij^ 
maiden, side hy side, covered with purple gore, and nmtilated hy the tomahawk 
and scali)ing knife -their immortal spirits gone forever ! The scene was solenm 
heyond description; and it was with difficulty that, in after years. ^hMitz could 
he induced to speak of it; and he never rt'latr(T the story \vithout s]it>ddiiig a 
flood of tears. 

At the time of the mui'der of John Mack and his daughter Elsie, Shanks 
Ben and his associates were returning from Col. Johannes Jansen's. Lured hy 
the prize offered hy the British for the scal[) or person of the doughty Colonel, 
the wily savages had attempted to amhush Jansen as he was leaving the house 
in the morning. The Indians were discovered hy some of the family, and the 
alarm given. The Colonel ran \\\W\ all his might for the house, hotly pursued 
hy Shanks Ben. and closed the door just as the latter hurled a tomahawk at 
his head. This door is still preserved as a relic of the past, bearing tlie prints of 
the Indian's weapon. Failing to enter the main building, the assailants ])lun- 
dered the kitchen: and hearing Mrs. Jansen call out as if the neighbors were 
coming, they hastily left the place. 

A young white girl, named Hannah Giianenwalden, daughter of a neigh- 
bor, was that morning coming to spin for ^Irs. Jansen, and was approaching 
the house as the Indians were engaged in their plunder. Mrs. Jansen called to 
her to go back, but Hannah misunderstood the warning, and fell an easy cap- 
tive. The Indians also took with them two negi'o boys, that Avere never hear<l 
of afterwai'ds. Fearing her screams would guide pursuers, Shanks B(^n ami 
his companions soon killed and scalped the girl. 

red spot on the toj) of a large rock on a farm belonging to Brundage 
Peck is still shown as the place where Hannah met her fate - a stain which th<' 
storms of a century have not effaced. When the remains of Hamiah, togethei 
\\\W\ those of John Mack and his daughter Elsie, were deposited in their lasl 
resting-place, the whole community, on either side of the mountain, niiui^lcd 
their tears in the common sorrow. 

There is a tradition in Shawangunk that some time after the close of tht 
war, John Mentz went off into the woods with his rifle, and for more than a 
year he was not heard of by his family or friends; that he would never give a 
satisfactory account of his absence; that he shook his head mysteriously when 
Shanks Ben was mentioned, and that the latter individual was never again seen. 

Shanks Ben, at this time, was about forty years of age. He was tall and 
athletic; hair jet black, and clubbed behind; forehead wrinkled, and brown 
eyes deeply sunk in their sockets, and his cheeks hollow and furrowed. The 
natural f rightfulness of his visage was heightened by an accident; and when 
arrayed for war, he was one of the most hideous specimens of humanity the 
eye could rest upon. 

One day Shanks Ben and two other savages came ui)on a log cabin in the 
toAvil of Shawangunk. The man was not at home: but his wife saw them ap 
proaching. and escaped to the woods, leaving an infant sleeping in its cradle. 



164 Legends of tJie Shawangunk. 

One of the Indians raised his tomahawk, and was about to slay the child, when 
it looked up into his face and smiled; even his savage heart was touched and 
he restored the tomahawk to his belt. With a fierce oath Shanks Ben thrust 
his bayonet through the innocent babe, and ran about the place holding up the 
child impaled on the cruel instrument, in the hope that its screams would 
entice the mother from her concealment. Failing in this, Ben dashed out the 
little one's brains against the door-post; and the marauders departed, first 
appropriating what they could conveniently carry away. 

During the Revolution, Cornelius Decker was one day at work in a field 
near the present village of Bruynswick, when he felt a strange oppression, 
as though some great personal danger were impending. He could not shake 
off the feeling and presently returned to the house, where he was laughed at 
for his caprice. After the war was over, Shanks Ben came thi-ough the neigh- 
borhood. In an interview with Decker and others, Ben pointed to a log in the 
field above mentioned, and remarked that he one day lay behind that log with 
the intention of shooting Decker when he came to his work; but that the latter, 
having always deported himself as a friend, he could not find it in his heart to 
take his life. On comparing the day and hour of Ben's concealment behind 
the log, it was found the time coincided precisely with that of Decker's feeling 
of presentiment. 

In 1784, Shanks Ben and two other Indians visited their old camping 
grounds on the Delaware to fish and hunt. They were first seen at Cochecton, 
where they were advised to go no further, as there were some dangerous char- 
acters below — Tom Quick among the number. They did not heed the advice, 
however, but went as far down as Shohola, where a hunter named Haines dis- 
covered them. Haines urged them to visit his cabin, setting apart a day for 
the purpose. In the meantime Haines communicated with Tom Quick and a 
man named Chambers, and a plan was arranged by which Shanks Ben and his 
companions were to be killed while they were his guests. 

Accordingly Haines proposed to Ben and his companions to fish at the 
Eddy, taking up their position on a rock near which Quick and Chambers, by 
previous agreement, had secreted themselves. Presently two rifle shots were 
heard. One of the baUs wounded Ben's companion, who ran to Haines and 
claimed his protection; but Haines seized a pine knot, exclaiming — " Tink, 
tink ! how you ust to kill white folks ! ' Pent, 'pent ! I'll send your soul to heU'n 
a moment ! " and dispatched him by beating out his brains. Even Tom Quick 

was shocked at the perfidy of Haines and shouted as he came up, "D a 

man that will promise an Indian protection, and then knock him on the head ! " 
Shanks Ben, who was unharmed, jumped into the river, and made good his 
escape. 



Facts and Pancics. 



165 



FACTS AND FANCIES. 

'"T^HE Rondout Freeman is responsible for first giving publicity to the fol- 
J_ lowing story. Some slight changes are liere made to conform more 
closely to the facts. Up back of Lackawaxen lived Farmer Cole. WHiile 
at work in his field one day, with his man Olmstead, word came that a bear 
had raided his pig-pen, and was carrying off a pig; and presently the Babel 
of sounds in the direction of the house amiounced that something unusual was 
transpiring. Cole and his man made a dash for the scene of tlie disturbance. 
The former caught up a hay-knife which happened to be lying near, while 
Olmstead had secured a stout hickory club from the wood-pile. On reaching 
the house the bear was seen crossing the orchard back of the sty, walking 




UP BACK OF LACKAWAXEN. 



upright on his hind feet, and carrying a pig in his fore paws. The pig was 
squealing lustily, and struggling to get away. Close upt»n tlie lieels of the 
bear came the sow^ and the rest of the litter, wliich seemed to know all was not 
right and made a great uj^roar. Next followed Mrs. Cole and her three daughters, 
armed with brooms and such other weapons as they in their haste could secure. 
Farmer Cole, his two sons and the hired man joined in the nnrsuit, and a for- 
midable force was presented. At the back of the orcliard was a fence. The 
bear climbed over Avith his pig, but tlie fence prevented the sow and her litter 
from following: the rest, however, followed on, and carried the war into the 
adjoining field. Farmer Cole gave the hay-knife mto the hands of his son 
James, caught a rail from the fence, and running aliead of the bear, he and the 



1 66 



Legends of the Shawangiink. 



liired man by taking hold of either end tripped Bruin up. The bear did not lose 
his hold of the pig, but gathered himself up and made off towards the woods. 
The rail was held as before, and a second time was he tripped up. This enraged 
the bear, and he dropped the pig, which was now dead, and made a dash for 
Farmer Cole. A third time was the animal thrown to the ground, and the 
men, by holding with all their united strength against the rail, held the bear 
down until James came up with the hay-knife and cut his throat. 

In Southern Ulster there is a burial-ground that in times gone by was set 
apart for the interment of slaves. The headstones were selected from the fields; 
and though partially liidden from the casual observer by grass and shrubbery, 
the mounds and rude monuments can yet be located. Some of the older in- 




THE SPECTRE. 



habitants say that apparitions are sometimes seen loitering among the graves; 
and that on very dark and stormy nights a figure is seen to rise and soar away 
into space. In former years, it is said, the ghostly visitant used to frequent a 
house in the vicinity, and disturb the quiet of its occupants. Sometimes steps 
could be heard ascending the stairs. Then there would follow the creaking of 
a door on its hinges, though no door could be seen to move, and a figure in 
white would advance to the centre of the room, and pause as if intently look- 
ing for some object, and then vanish out of sight. The more knowing ones 
shake their heads when the subject is mentioned, and aver that if the dead 
could speak, some great wrong would be exposed; that by reason of this great 
wrong the spirits are not allowed to rest in their graves, but are forced to do 
penance as punishment for the acts committed during life. It is related that 
the good dame who once lived there used to punish her diminutive but some- 
what refractory husband by doubling him up into a bucket, and letting him 



Fnch (Did I'a7in'cs. 167 

down into a deep well, until his spirit was reduced to something like submis- 
sion. Be that as it may, there are those living in the vicinity, who, when they 
have occasion to ])ass the graveyard in the night-time, keep an eye over their 
shoulder until they get well beyond the ghost-haunted spot. 

Yannaker Rosecrans, a domestic in the family of Col. Jansen, was a char- 
acter in her way. She had a wen growing on her neck half as large as a man's 
head. She frequently stood sentry at the house of her employer. One night 
she detected a number of Indians lurking in the currant l)ushes near the house. 
She fired two or three shots in the direction of the sound, and declared some 
of them were hit, as she presently heard the noise of tomahawks, and supposed 
the Indians were cutting i)oles to carry the wounded away. Old people claim 
she could hold up a barrel of cider and drink out of the "guimel." She 
boasted that no two men could take her alive. It is said that Shanks Ben once 
lay in ambush for the puri)ose of taking her prisoner as she came to fodder the 
cattle; but at the sight of her, armed as she was with a huge pitchfork, he de- 
clared his heart went " pitty-patty," until she was out of reach. At another 
time, while the Colonel had taken refuge in the chimney, she kept the Indians 
away from the fire-place by throwing hot suppawn at them with a spoon. 

It was one of the most melancholy features of the battle of ^linisink, that 
the friends of many of the patriots engaged in that sanguinary conflict were 
left in painful solicitude as to their fate. Whether killed in the heat of the 
strife, massacred in cold blood by the marauding savages, left to i)erish in the 
wilderness, or carried away captive, — to many of tlie kinsfolk about Goshen 
these were questions of conjecture, which only the judgment day will reveal. 
Major AVood was among the number who failed to return home with the rem- 
nant of the little army, and of whom the survivors were able to give little or 
no account. It could not be determined whether he was among the slain, or of 
the number taken prisoner. As years went by. and one by one a few re- 
turned from their captivity, the wife eagerly sought for tidings of her husband. 
Her inquiries were all in vain, and she finally felt constrained to give him up 
as lost. After the lapse of several years the widow had a favorable offer of 
marriage. Though she had no positive proof of tlie death of her husband, 
there was little probability of his being yet alive; so acting under the advice of 
friends, she accepted the offer. The second marriage i)roved a happy one, and 
two children blessed the union. Twelve years after the battle of Minisink, 
Major Wood returned to his home. He had been kept a close i)risoner during 
all that time, and had not once heard of his family. He embraced the first 
opportunity to escape from cai>tivity; and returned to find that he had long 
been mourned as dead; that his wife had married again, and had another 
family growing u}) around her. Much as it pained him to break the ties that 
bound the new family together, she was still his wife, for the law would not 
recognize the second marriage, now that the legal husband was known to be 



1 68 Legends of the Shawangiink. 

alive. But the way out of the difficulty was reached in an unexpected manner. 
The second husband went from home, ostensibly on business, and a few days 
afterward his hat and some of his clothing were found on the banks of the Dela- 
ware. Whether he really committed himself to the mercy of the water with 
suicidal intent, or only sought to convey the impression that he was dead, while 
he left for parts unknown, has never been told. Those who knew him best 
incline to the view that, from motives of compassion for the feelings of his 
family, he chose the latter alternative. Major Wood lived many years after 
his return, and his descendants are held in high estimation at the present time. 

One of the greatest curiosities, in point of the mysteriousness of its origin 
in the county of Ulster, is that bit of ancient masonry in the town of Plattekill 
known as the "Indian Dam." It is located on what is known as the Levi 
Bodine farm, now occupied by J. S. Terwilliger, jr. The dam in question 
consists of two stone walls joined at an obtuse angle, and is about one hundred 
and fifty yards in length, eight or ten feet in height at the highest part, and 
four feet in width at the top. It is built across a stream at the outlet of a 
heavily timbered swamp, and would submerge about one hundred acres. As 
there is scarcely any perceptible fall, the dam could hardly have been built to 
furnish water power, hence the question as to the purpose of its construction 
has never been satisfactorily answered. What is stranger still, when the first 
settlers came into tlie vicinity, more than a century ago, the datn was there in 
the same condition in which it is now found; nor could they ascertain when, 
by whom, or for what purpose it was built. Though called the Indian Dam, 
it is not probable the Indians had anything to do Avith its construction, as they 
were not given to wall -building Its origin may have been coeval with that of 
the ancient roads in the vicinity of the Shawangunk mountain, called the 
"Mine Eoads," indications of which may yet be seen at various points at the 
foot of the declivities on either side, of which neither history nor tradition can 
give a satisfactory account. 



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